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THE
RADICAL:
A Monthly Magazine,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION.
EDITED BY
SIDNEY H. MORSE.
VOL. L
BOSTON :
A. WILLIAMS & CO., loo Washington Street.
LONDON s TRUBNER 4 COMPANY.
I866.
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PRINTED BY
P. BROWN * CO., NO. 27 CORNRILL, BOSTON
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CONTENTS. /^^
PAGE
A Sign of the TimeSy • • 201
Address, . 34
American Social Science Association^ • • • « . 105, 227
A Tale from the Gulistan, 303
A Whitsuntide Wreath, 426
A Letter to Rev. Edmund H. Sears, 3^5
Book Notices, ... 32, 68, 191, 231, 267, 356^ 396^ 447i 49'
Bond or Free, 49
Concerning Enemies, 88
Constitutional Amendment, •••••••• 180
Coal Civilizationi 256
Concerning the Nation's Soul, y 281
Dangers of our Political Machinery, 208
Discourses Concerning the Foundations of Religious Belief,
71,113, 154, 233, 313, 401
Do Men need Salvatiop? 135
Enlightenments, 18^ 64, 94^ 178^ 260, 394, 423
England at the Grave of Palmerston, 14$
Encouragement, 326
Fetishbm at Home and Ab|x>ad, S47
Fragments, , 458
Is the Negro Naturalized ? . , 253
IBnsion, • ... 4x5 ^
Jeans the Sublime Radical, 297
Letter from London, lio
Letter from James Freeman Clarke, ..,«,. 148, 349
Letter from Samuel Johnson, , . . 31&
Letter from Paris, 304
Mr. Sears on Modem Naturalism, «••••« loa
Man and Institutions, , 348
Movements, , * « • 349
Not in Word, 126
^9^3t% from Scotland, .•••«••«« 187
Personal Experience, • • 143
Principles, • • a73
Piofessional Religious Conversation. • 475
PorrRY —
A Summer Morning Hour with Nature, • . • • 473
Delusion, { • 459
Godward, « • • • 349
Grotta-Savngr : the Quern Song, .•.••• 30$
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iv Contents,
Poetry, Continued,
Hymn for the New Year, 153
Ideals, . .^ 177
Ministering Angels to the Imprisoned Soul, . • • • 330
On a Fallen Comrade, • 186
Per Tribulationes Perfectum, 263
Sentences of Confucius, 5
Self Dependence, 25
Saving Faith, 33
Sonnets, • . • . 63
Saadi's Thinking, 85
TheHumming Bird, 96
The True Light, 133
The Lost Thought, 142
The Little Song, 204
The Trysting Place, 264
The Patriot, 303
The Chase, 414
Questioning. 446
Religion, i
Recognition, 26
Reformatory Institutions in Massachusetts, 486
Squantum Beach Letter, 27
Social Science in England, ^ . 108
Sentences from Joubert, 216, 439
Social Science Association, 266
Sursum Cordal • 291
Speculative Culture, 459
The Holiness of Helpfulness, 6
/The Lord's Supper,^ i^y 59» 9'
The Denial of Christ, • 65
The ^Radical" and Religion, 66
The Old and New Religion, 97
The Sceptic, 169
The New Epoch in Belief 193
The Policy, 295
The Lesson for the People, 310
Tablets, 328
The Characteristics of Truth, 361
The New Spirit and its Forms, 371
The Foundation of the Popular Faith. 381
The Boston Revival and its Leader, 429
Two National Dreams, 440
Two Photographs, 486
The << Positive Pofait " of Unitarianism, 444
The Radical's Attitude towards the Bible, 494
Walt Whitman's Drum-Taps, 311
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THE RADICAL.
SEPTEMBER, 1865.
RELIGION.
The word Religion, has, we believe, a broader significance than the
Christian world has been acoistomed to allow for it. We shall not,
therefore, accept the limitations so commonly recognized. Instead of
considering religion as a single, separate department of life, we
hope to reveal its legitimate right to consecrate all departments^ to
be in fact inseparable from all of real life or character in man, and
that with no reference to time or place. We are more and more con-
vinced, that the manner in which the world is willing as yet to regard
Religion, is low and trifling. What Religion is there in seeking pri-
vate gains ? What is the difference between the sowing of fields for
bread, and the sowing of God for heaven — when both acts are for
the same exclusive, private end ? We seek " this world," we seek
the " next world," the poor thought of se/f inspiring to secure both
the one and the other. What wonder that Jesus cried : " Take no
thought ! is not the /t/e more than the meat? Which of you by taking
thought can add one cubit to his stature ? " '
It is Sunday morning, August 13th, on which we write. An inspir-
ing day it seems — out on Boston Common. Already, at seven o'clock
(early for Sunday), faces begin to appear, and the seats around the
Fountain hold each their one or two unconscious worshipers. Some
of these people have already been to Church. Other portions of them
will go before the day is done. But where are their thoughts now ?
Think they now of God as related to themselves ? Of the fate he
will award them in the hereafter ? We venture to affirm that none of
them are now troubled with any such " religious thoughts." They do
not seem to be thinking of themselves at all. They are resting in self-
forgetfulness ; resting from the week-day's work, refreshing them
selves in the quiet presence of Nature. On one seat there sits an
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2 The Radical.
Irish woman. She has worked hard through the week to buy and make
up cleanly and neat, a new dress, a summer shawl ; and she has a
good looking bonnet on^ But just now she appears to have forgotten
all about these thmgs. All her troubles, too, are asleep. If we can
read her face aright, Mary McGlaucklin has lost herself. But she
is most truly living, nevertheless, as she sits there alone, without even
herself for company. Her religious nature is expressing itself : she
is worshipping God in Nature with devoutest spirit But she does not
know it, and will not, when her reverie is broken. She will then start
up quickly, and hurry away to Church, where, what she calls her re-
ligion, will find the manifestation she has been instructed to give it
She will cross herself with holy water, courtesy to the Virgin, say her
prayers, and count her beads : all this to save her soul. Beside the
fountain on the Common, she stole her hour, to forget herself and
rest with Nature. And shall we hesitate to say that there the truest
life given her was, for the moment, lived — that there poor Mary was
really saving her soul, and not at the Church ? The illusion, 'which
so blinds us all, was the veil over her wisdom, not yet taken away.
When she lost her life, she found it When at Church she found it,
and saved it for eternity — how much of life did she find or save?
Now let no one of our readers despise the humble woman we have
thus instanced, nor her methods for becoming religious. For this whole
Church-going world of ours has methods not unlike hers, seeking not
unlike ends. What signifies the extra ceremony which Catholic Church-
people accept ? Methods, ceremonies of all kinds, many or few, are
of one sort, in this Self-seeking Religion which every soul new-bom
into the world is expected to celebrate. It is a matter of habit and
taste. There is no degree in which to distinguish senseless or sensi-
ble. Things of this sort are senseless or sensible as the sense is
supplied. It is as sensible to kneel in the broad aisle, and cross
yourself in prayer, as to stand solemn and still in yoiur Church pew.
What we feel impelled to question is the value of any of these methods
for getting religion. They are so plainly, simply external. They are
foreign to any natural expression of fiill, deep life. The absence of
real life and character, always suggests the necessity of performance.
Ever ^t is true, that a mere performance is a self-conscious trick, seek-
ing ulterior purposes. That method is sanest and best which is no-
method, of ours. The Spirit does not deal with methods. It bloweth
where it will — bom of your own veracious life. The truest life is every-
where and always religious of its own accord. It is not re-married to
God, as Dante has written, but married. It is the life of his life. The
twain are one.
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Religion. 3
" DrsKir, if thou ctnst, the mystic line,
Severing rightly his from thine,
Which is human, which divine."
So it is : the man who " gets religion " in a true way, gets his
Manhood free and alive to co-work with God. "God cannot do
without strong men." " He is a good worker, but loves to be helped."
These are good proverbs. But we should say of the last, not only
loves to be helped, but must be helped. What destiny is for man,
man must achieve, God bestows no gifts except Existence and the
Capacity for all achievements. We say must, for Humanity cannot
resist its own compelling. By virtue oiF its native nature it will assert
higher and higher possibilities. Yet, God the Pre-Determiner, is All
in All. He forecasts Eternity, and the Universe is sure with means
adapted to ends. This is the basis of Faith, and lets men know that
they are charged with power for all the fortune that shall attend them I
Every man is strong enough to enforce his convictions, said Goethe.
Religion is the power of enforcement, when the conviction is of a
universal good. Our objection to religious methods is, that they are
too personal and mechanical ; that they assert the " me " of a man in
too positive a degree, and in artificial ways, when it is this " me," this
" myselii" which Religion should put to death.
There is a Religion of fear (consenting for the moment to that use
of the term,) which contents, in the present day, the great mass of
mankind. We know not if it be Paganism, or what It is not Christ-
ianity. It manifests itself in methods and forms of worship that shall
propitiate the God-Judge, or God-King. It is a relation to the DL-
vine (?) which constant personal anxiety keeps well sustained. If it
speaks at any time of love, the love easily merges into fear. In this
Religion the selfishood of man is most painful.
There is a Religion of love that is Christianity, which many profess,,
but few accept It manifests itself at present, in methods and forms
of worship, such as are believed to be pleasing and acceptable to
God as Father, and to have most beneficial influence on the wor-
shipers. But in this Religion there is also recognition of self which
detracts from its power. It is love for love. It is a relation to the
Divine Being, which says, " Thou God seest me ; therefore, I do, or
refrain, because thou first didst love me, and I love thee, and I fear
through my very love to dfend." Why should God's seeing make any
difference ? Is there no moral sentiment to pronounce " Right " or
« Wrong *•?
Here we touch the thought, which we would emphasize as Religion.
The moral sentiment of Right, which God represents as we affirm it
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4 The RadicaK
of him, is universal in its reach, holds all as one, and lays unreleasing
hold on eternity. But we affirm this moral sentiment of man as
well. He, too, is related to the universal, and can ally himself to the
Eternal. What then shall man be ? A seeker of benefits, or a creator
and worker ? The world has much to say about the temporal and
the eternal. By this it means a division of worlds. Politics, Art, Lit-
erature, Philosophy, Science, are of this world — also morality, and
are all temporal. Its Religion, as Coleridge said, is ^^ other^world-
linessy This side the grave, means temporal. The side beyond
the grave, means eternal. Shall we not find a better distinction ?
Shall we not so interpret religion that we can let the other world
rest until our fortune of life finds us there as dwellers — making this
world as sacred as the next shall be ; life as little to be despised here,
as it shall be in any hereafter ? Phillipsohn, the able Jewish writer,
makes it his chief argument against Christianity, that it renders this
world mean and contemptible by its dismal strain of immortality —
dismal to * his cultured soul, because it reveals in the great mass of
mankind who are chanting it, a thought so entirely selfish. So far
as Christianity can be made responsible for this " dismal strain of
future life," it must go under condemnation. Jesus, however, was not a
" Christian." He cut the One-world apart as regards this world. His
" this world " meant surface, pretension, illusion, show, hypocrisy,
sham. His " Eternal life," was quality of life, and not duration or
place of existence. "Love God with mind and heart, and your
neighbor as yourself" That was all he said. Tear down the parti-
tion wall and there is One World and Eternity already present
To live in this great Eternity, and, forgetting little or great private
aims, (which are temporal^ for they must be set aside for the common
weal), to work with a whole devotion to truth as to universal ends, is
that marriage of Man with God which, in all places and forever, must
be for man, his Religion t Herein are all callings of life ennobled.
The True, the Beautiftil, the Good : devotion to these as they every-
where appear, revealing the True, Beautiftil, and Good Providence, or
Order, is Religion. This Religion can be subtracted fi*om no depart-
ment It is the one Reality. It is the Life of Art, of Philosophy, of
all Literature, of Politics even ; so far as these have life. Religion
supplies. It is the Life of all life that shall not perish 1
In devoting our Magazine to Religion, have we drawn any exclud-
ing lines to bar our entrance into whatever field, so that we cannot
well consider all questions of public interest ? We think not On
the contrary, we include all departments of thought and work, which
have for mankind any real worth or significance.
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SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS.
TIME.
nr HREEFOLD the strides of Time, from first to last !
Loitering slow, the Future creepeth —
Arrow-swift, the Present sweepeth —
And motionless forever stands the Past.
Impatience, fret howe'er she may,
Cannot speed the tardy goer ;
Fear and Doubt — that crave delay —
Ne'er can make the Fleet One slower;
Nor one spell Repentance knows,
To stir the Still One from repose.
If thou wouldst, wise and happy, see
Life's solemn journey close for thee.
The loiterer's counsel thou wilt heed,
Though readier tools must shape the deed;
Nor for thy friend the Fleet One know.
Nor make the Motionless thy foe !
SPACE.
A threefold measure dwells in space —
Restless Length, with flying race ;
Stretching forward, never endeth.
Ever widening. Breadth extendeth;
Ever groundless. Depth descendeth.
Types in these thou dost possess; —
Restless, onward thou must press,
Never halt nor languor know.
To the Bttfect wouldst thou go; —
Let thy reXn with Breadth extend
Till the world it comprehend —
Dive into the Depth to see
Germ and root of all that he.
Ever onward must thy soul ; —
'T is the progress gains the goal ;
Ever widen more its bound ;
In the full the clear is found.
And the truth dwells under ground. — Schiller.
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THE HOLINESS OF HELPFULNESS.*
by rbv. robert collyrr.
*' Not Slothful ik Business, Fervent in Spirit, Serving the Lord."
George Stephenson was getting ready to go to Methodist meeting.
He was a young man just at that period in life when young men go to
Methodist meeting more and more until they are brought directly under the
influence of the master spirit of the place, and become in a sense religious
men. There is not much doubt in my mind, as I read this young man's
life up to this time, that he is in a fair way to that preferment He has that
thread of natural piety and goodness in his nature .that is almost sure to
draw him into a more intimate relation with the forms and industries of the
recognized religious life about him, if nothing prevent I said he was just
ready to go to the meeting, when a neighbor came to tell him that he was
wanted. He was then running an engine at a coal-pit There was another
pit between this and his home, which he passed every day, that had been
flooded with water, so that the men were beaten out The Company got a
steam-pump to clear the pit, and kept it at work for twelve months, with no
success at alL The water was, when they had been pumping twelve months,
as deep as when they flrst began to pump, and the wives and children were
starving for bread. This young Stephenson had a most active energy and
fervent spirit toward whatever went by steam. The gr^at ambition of his
boyhood was to run an engine, and when he rose to that position, as he did
very soon — for it is a cheering fact, that while a man may long for a hundred
things and not get one, a boy hardly ever fails to accomplish his purpose, if
he has a genuine hunger to be, or to do some particular thing, — when this
boy rose to the position he wanted, he treated his engine as if he loved her.
Whenever there was holiday and the works were stopped, instead of going
out with the rest, he studied her until she became as familiar to him as his
own right hand. He was not slothful in business, and he was fervent in
spirit Intimate with the charge that was laid upon him, he soon began to
perceive why those women and children were starving. The difference be-
tween what the pump was, and what it ought to be, «p the difference be-
tween a tall, slender, narrow-chested man, and a short, sturdy, broad-chested
man engaged in digging earth or scooping out water. Every pump owner
in the country-side had tried to mend this pump and failed, — because, I sup-
pose, pump-mending and engine-running with them was a business and not
a passion. This young man with the fervent spirit said one day, as he went
past the pit, " I can clear that pit in a week ; " and they laughed him to
scorn. But they could not laugh the water to scorn ; and so at last they sent
for him to come and try his hand. He went there instead of going to the
* A Discourse delivered before the Western Unitarian Conference at Cincin-
nad, June 17th, 1865.
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The Holiness of Helpfulness. 7
Church. He went into the pit on a Sunday morning, and worked all that
day, and until the next Sunday, and nearly cleared out all the water in a
week, and sent the men down to earn their children bread. From that time
the young man comes into notice. He works through all sorts of opposition,
and never rests until he has got his engine to run fifty miles an hour. He
is, more than any other man, entitled to be called the £sither of the Railroad
83rstem. He kept the diligent hand and fervent heart right on to the end of
his life. He was a good husband, a good &ther, a good friend and a good
citizen. But it is a curious fiEurt that, from that time, when he was prevented
from going to meeting on that Saturday night, he never seems to have gone,
or to have thought of going again, to the end of his life. He did not turn
religious, as we say, even when he had nothing else to do, but lived a kindly,
sunny, or shadowy, fiuthful life right on to the end, and then died quietly, and
made no sign ; never said he feared he had done wrong in turning from
that Church to that coal-pit, and trying to mend the pump Sunday, instead of
keeping the Sabbath day holy by doing nothing. Indeed, it never seems to
have occurred to him to think the matter over in any way whatever ; his
heart was too full, and his hand was too busy about engines, to find room
for the idea ; to find time, as we should say, to save his soul. And so it
brings up a question that to me has a good deal of interest, namely : While
this man was so busy and so fervent in the way I have noted, did he also
serve the Lord ? or, from the moment he turned aside from the meeting and
began to lose that sense and liking for meetings and their peculiar servi-
ces, did he cease to serve the Lord altogether, and remaining only diligent
in business and fervent in spirit, go out of this world into murk darkness
and despair?
Now I am well aware what the common answer to such a question would
be, " Well, we must leave him in the hands of God ; we cannot answer the
question, because we have no data." Now, that is not true. If he had been
an idle good-for-nothing, or scampish sharper, an abandoned libertine, or
an unprincipled butcher, a political vulture ; if he had beaten his wife,
trained up his child in the way he should go — to states-prison ; if he had
been a common nuisance for sixty-nine years and a half, never going into a
Church except to make a disturbance, never keeping the Sabbath except in
sensual sleep ; and six months before his death, or six weeks, or six days,
had repented of his sin, had led a good and pure life, adopted religious
ideas like those commonly held, and said clearly that he believed God had
pardoned his sin, and would take him to heaven, we should feel the utmost
confidence of that man's safety from that date. But we do not feel sure for
this other man. It is a great mystery, and we must leave him in the hands
of God. But if you push us to the feir conclusion of our own standard of
religious beKef, and the books we adopt, we feel compelled to say that he
has gone to hell.
Now, friends, this looks to me like a tremendous piece of injustice on the
very fece of it I think if a man could be brought face to fecc with the
question as I have stated it, and as it really stands in the common theologi-
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8 The Radical-
cal systems ; could see these men brought up before what are called our
Evangelical churches, having never heard of these peculiar religious ideas
up to that time ; could see the men examined, and then observe which man
was sent upward and which downward by these standards, his conclusion
would be, that there was something radically, utterly wrong in their premi-
ses ; and I can well imagine such a man would agree for a new trial. He
would say : I know nothing at all about your authorities for this curious
decision. You tell me that they bear the merit mark of divinity ; that
they have come to you from the remotest antiquity ; from kings, and proph-
ets, and apostles, and the Son of God himself; that they are the fruit of a
divine inspiration, foreshadowed in prophesies, confirmed by miracles, and
held by martyrs at the stake. Now all this may be true ; but I know some-
thing of the Lord of this Universe, of what enters into the real life of man
for blessing and for hurt I cannot, and I will not, deny the claim of this
man, who has kept the divine law six months out of threescore and ten
years, to be saved. It is always right to do right ; and a man is bound up-
ward from the moment when he does begin to do well. Whenever that may
be, he begins to come out of his rags and wretchedness into a wholesome
purity and happiness. But where you have one good reason on your au-
thorities for saying that this man is good and ascended, because he has
done what you say for six months out of the threescore and ten years of
his life, I have sixscore and twenty good reasons for the assurance that
this other man is also ascended, because he has done good according to
the organic laws of the world ever since he came into it.
Now be sure I have not brought up this question to-day, friends, to prove
that the man I have mentioned for illustration was saved ; though the com-
mon interpreters of the Christian doctrine claim that it was impossible he
should be saved by their standards ; but to make the man, as he represents
an idea of very great importance in our life, the basis of some description of
a segment, at least, of true religion. I say a segment, because religion in all
ts reaches is as boundless as the Spirit of God, and the infinitely varied life
of man can make it, and there can be no exhaustive system of religion in
the hard, dry sense of the term. Every system is a statement, a proposition,
a shadow of the principles that impress most deeply the man who makes it
The Calvinist has not the same idea of Free Grace which the Arminian has,
nor the Arminian the same idea of Predestination which the Calvinist has.
The Episcopalian, and Quaker, and Presbyterian have no common union
except that which comes from standing at the right angles of a triangle
as far as possible apart The men who sprinkle and the men who immerse
and the men who do neither can all show exhaustive reason for their par-
ticular methods. And I think the reason for all this lies far less in the per-
verseness of the men, than in their powerlessness to see all the glory and
grandeur of the truth of God that is in the world. Schools of theology are
like schools of painting, — they are in some measure the copy of a copy.
They copy from their great master, and he copied from God. Walking down
the world of truth and beauty the great painter sees things that make his
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The Holiness of Helpfulness. 9
soul aflame with their beauty and wonder : mountains, meadows, woodlands,
rivers, men and women, sun and shadow, fill him with a sense of their inti-
mate unutterable divinity. But he cannot paint all he sees ; he can paint
really very little ; but he paints what he can — he follows the bent of his
ovm genius and inspiration ; he brings in here a meadow, and there a
wood ; here a mountain and there a river ; here a flower, and there a
figure ; here a bit of marvellous sunlight, and there a wonderful touch of
shadow ; and makes them all glorious or sombre in the coloring of his own
soul ; and then the picture is done. Those that love it and follow it declare
that it exhausts all perfection. But beautiful as it may be, the man has
got in but a very small piece of the infinite beauty that is all about him.
And so it is in religious truth ; no one system exhausts even the Bible ; how
much less the boundless wealth of truth of which the Bible is but the part
of a record. The system may be a real good thing for the men who love
that method, trying faithfully to copy the great original who founded the
school The copyist in the one case will hardly need write under his com-
position : This is a mountain, and this is a man ; any more than in the other
he will need to say : I am religious, after the school of Calvin or Luther.
But still the sombrant splendors of Calvin, the sober gray realism of Fox,
the water-color landscape of our Baptist brother, the broad Hogarths
of Wesley, true to exaggeration, the sunny Claude-like pictures of Chan-
ning, and the often stem Salvator piece of Parker, and the rich composi-
tion of the Episcopal, — which in some lights seem to rise to the beauty
and truth of the best Turners, and in some other lights to descend to the
stage effects of Martin, and of which no one seems to be sure about the
original, or whether there be one, — all these are true in their way to what
the master saw, — a transcript of things that filled his soul with keen de-
light, or holy rapture, or awful solemnity. But beyond them, and above
them, and all about them, were other meadows that are beautifiil as the
gardens of the angels upon the slopes of Eden, other forests that cover the
mountains like the shadow of God, other rivers that move like his own
eternity.
And so the claim that not one of all the sects, nor all the sects together,
have exhausted the truth, brings the claim of this man into court to come
in for a share, not of salvation only in the life to come, but of glory in the
best, the most religious sense, in the life that now is, though he did take
such a singular stand. When my fi-iends said to me while yet a Metho-
dist preacher, " How can you preach for Dr. Fumess, in Philadelphia, who
is a Unitarian ? We would suppose you could not find anything to say
that these people will listen to, and yet be true to your Methodism,"
I replied, " I find it easier to preach to them than it is to preach at
home ; for I leap over the fence that bounds the little system of Methodism,
and as they are already over the fence that has bounded thqr little system of
Unitarianism, we all meet in the boundless world of truth and beauty which
God has made outside, and it is wonderful how much we find to talk about
when we get there."
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lo The Radical.
Now the vital point in the question at issue turns on whether, what a man
thinks and feels, or what he does, is to be considered the essential element
in his life. Whether a certain sort of ideas and feelings and industries in
relation to what we agree to call religion, are to be counted the great ele-
ments in the nobility of this life, and the safety of the life to come ; or
whether to do faithfully, with or without them, is the one good thing which
the passionate heart of the man indicates that he was created to do, is the
true way to live.
I think the honest verdict of the human heart turns to the deed ; and I
picked up a remarkable illustration of this, when once I was called down
into Michigan, to a place called Constantine, to attend the funeral of a gen-
tleman I had known slightly before. He was, so far as I could ascertain, a
good man ; but he made no profession of religion ; never went to Church ;
kept aloof from all sects. He had been for some time in delicate health, so
that it was dangerous for him to travel in bad weather ; and just in the twi-
light of one of the most terrible spring nights, he was summoned to Lansing,
to consult on the impending rebellion. His wife tried to keep him until
morning ; but he felt he must go. He went, and never held his head up
after. In my sermon, I pointed out the organic elements in the life of a
man ; how holily he may live as a father and husband and friend ; mentioned
how my hearers knew the record our friend had made, and touched on the
grandeur of the last deed in which he gave his life, and then said : Is not
this religion ? I was the first man holding this faith openly, who had ever
spoken there, but it was touching to see how readily those men and women
caught the idea, with what joy they received it, and how they thanked me
for confirming what had been in their hearts as a natural and necessary
idea.
And last Spring of all, I visited Camp Douglas, and sat down on the cot
of a sick man, a prisoner from the South. He said, " Are you a minister ? "
I answered, " Yes." " What sort, Baptist ? " "No." "Methodist?" "No."
" Presbyterian ?" I wanted to see how far he knew, and so still said " No."
I suppose these were all he had ever heard about, for he opened his eyes
wide, when he had exhausted his catalogue, and said, " What then ? " I an-
swered, " Unitarian." " Ah," said he, " I never heard of that before.
What do they believe i* " So I told him how they believe God is our Father,
and cares for us every one, and how he takes a man for what he is, rather
than for what he says, and how after death, God is just as much our Father
as he was before. " Well," said the man, " I never heard that before ; but
that's right, come see me again." I went, I think, on the third day, but his
cot was empty ; he had gone to his Father.
John Ruskin, in one of his chapters on Modern Painters, enters into a
discussion of the meanings of help. He says that clouds may come to-
gether, but they are no help to each other, and so the removal of one part is
no injury to the rest, but if you take the sap or bark or pith from a plant,
you do that plant essential injury, for the part you take away has taken hold
on that power we call life, by which all things in the plant help each other ;
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The Holiness of Helpfulness. ii
take a part from that power so that it cannot help the rest, and it becomes
what we call dead. Then he says, if you take a limb from an animal, it is
a far greater injury than to take a limb from a tree, because intensity of life
is intensity of helpfulness ; the more perfect the help, the more dreadful
the loss ; the more intense the life the more terrible the corruption, and
most terrible of all in a man, because his life is the most helpful and most
intense of all. And so he ranges through this great thought until he finds
that the name which of all others is most expressive of the being of God, is
that of the helpful one, or, in our softer Saxon, the holy one.
Now to me this expresses exactly the idea that underlies life. The help-
ful life is the holy life. Holiness is help. Sin is hindrance. At what-
ever point we touch life to help it, in whatever way we help the world and
do not hinder it, whether by our prayers, and songs, and sermons, and in-
dustry in the Church, or by the creation of a locomotive and the construc-
tion of a Railroad, or the painting of a picture, or the writing of a book, or the
digging of drain, or the forging of a horse-shoe, or the fighting of a battle, —
in whatsoever thing we do, if we really help and do not hinder, then that is
a holy life. And in whatever way we hinder the world, and stand in the
way of its life, its healthy, hearty growth, by doing what will hurt or hinder
men in the largest sense, then that, being the reverse of helpful, is a sinful
life. The first principle of sin and holiness reach back into all creeds and
churches so far as they stand true to life, and no more. And the ultimate
touchstone of holiness is the organic law by which the best interests of the
whole man can be secured in his relation to the whole world, and all the
men that are in it And there is a beautiful illustration of this principle in
two related incidents in the life of Christ. When he sat down weary at the
well, the Samaritan woman came to fill her pitcher, and entering into con-
versation with him, found that she had got hold of a preacher or prophet,
and thinking to get a solution of the old vexed question, as to which was
the true religion, Samaritan or Jew, said, " Our fathers worshipped in
this mountain, and ye say tliat in Jerusalem men ought to worship." He
replied, " Ye worship ye know not what ; we know what we worship, for
salvation is of the Jews." But when he heard the story, or saw in some
inward way how a man went down to Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among
thieves, who stripped him and wounded him and left him for dead, and how
two Jews, a priest and a Levite, men who stood first among the Jews in the
relation of true Church worship, — if praying and singing is true worship, —
when he saw them go over to the other side, and leave the helpless man to
his fate, and saw one of the Samaritans come along, who did not know what
they worshipped, saw him leap from his horse in a great flood of pity and
mercy, hold up the poor fellow's head, stanch his wounds, set him on his
own beast and trudge along on foot himself, as if there was not a robber with-
in a thousand miles of him, carry him to a tavern, and not throw him on the
country when he got there, but pledge himself to pay all the expenses, and
then walk away as if he had done one of the most common things in the
world, the great soul saw past the old dogma, into this fresh organic law,
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12 The Radical.
this universal principle of worship, this holiness of helpfulness, and his soul
clave to the soul of the Samaritan who knew not God.
And, friends, be sure this principle underlies every other principle what-
ever in the religious life. I can teach God really just so far as I am good.
Christ will be Divine greatly by my divinity. I am my own proof, before
letters, of the intrinsic divinity of human nature. I shall not have much
trouble in proving to a man that God is our Father, if I can prove to him
that I am his brother.
That volume of the Evidences of Christianity which the other side never
did answer, and never will, is a book written on what the apostle calls the
fleshly tables of the heart Now this is the grand use of churches, sys-
tems, sacraments and ceremonies. They reach back into the principle of
helpfulness to find their seal ; they are centres of help to the world, and
to the man, or they are nothing. I care not one pin for their age, evidences,
liturgies, theologies. If the Church that holds them and holds you, cannot
help you, do not go to it If it does help you, do not dare to stay away,
when you need help, and that I take it with most of us, is pretty much all
the time. If your Church does not help others, let it perish. If it does,
care for it as you care for every noble and helpful thing : nay care for it as
the noblest If the liberal Christian preacher here or anywhere cannot help
you in your most central and sacred life, and the Catholic bishop can, then
I charge you on your allegiance to God and your own soul, go to the bishop
by the shortest route ; but if we do help you, if our words and deeds touch
some river spring, that is to all the rest of your manhood what the main-
spring is to a watch, if we help you to a clearer vision and a deeper trust, to
a fairer hope and a more abundant helpfulness — then we take hold on first
things, we start you in the old apostolic relation, we carry the keys and not
the bishop ; and you, every such man, is the rock on which the Master will
build his Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it
Here, then, was the great use of the man I have noted for illustration —
his place in the world was not in the Church, but in the foundry — he was
not the heart, but the hand in the body of Christ, but he was the hand, and
his mission was to be strong, dilligent, faithful, true to his trust, and let all
the rest take care of itself. God raised him up to inaugurate Railroads,
and woe to him if he does not do that He will endanger his soul, if he neg-
lects that, though he turn Methodist preacher ; even so his place on that
Sunday was in the coal-pit ; woe to him if the Master comes and finds him
in the Methodist meeting. The great problem for him to solve is not
whether he is going to be happy in meeting, or happy on his death-bed, or
happy at all on this earth, but if he is going to be helpful in the same supreme
way in which God has made him to be helpful If he cannot be a true hus-
band, and father, and friend, and man, and machine-maker except he belong
to the Church, then at his peril he fails to join. If the Church and its reli-
gious ideas, emotions, and inspiration are needed to make a good man, if
be was not brave, faithful, and strong, and loving, and the Church can
aid him to be all that, as I believe it can, then he must seek the Church ;
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The Holiness of Helpfulness. 13
but if all that is in him, then God is in him to will and to do of his good
pleasure, and when he carries that locomotive up to the throne of God, God
will say, "Well done."
There can be no more striking and conclusive proof of where the claim
ought to rest for the intrinsic worth of that, for the lack of which, most reli-
^gious teachers are conscientiously compelled to send such men as Stephenson
to the pit, than to notice the way in which the war has tried them, as by
fire. It is a most striking study from 1857 to 1861. The whole land went
under a great tide of revival. From Chicago, our Young Men's Christian
Association went to New Orleans, joined there in prayers and praises. It
was but one instance in a thousand. The entire religious world was one.
But when the South seceded, the Church seceded with the State, and
then came the wonder. These men held precisely the same religious be-
liefs and dogmas, uttered the same prayers, and received the same sacra-
ments as they had always done ; and they found that those things would
work as solidly to inspire treason as truth. " When Massa Jackson pray
aU night," his body servant said, " den I pack his tings, I know he go on a
raid." Our great dead friend, our father Abraham, into whose bosom the
angels now carry that Lazarus of our misdoings, the black man — our
father Abraham noticed this in our darkest days, and said, the rebels prayed
a great deal, and to all appearances, with the best results. So can the purse
the Samaritan takes to restore the dying man on the road to Jericho, madden
the robber to murder them both. It is only in being true and right, in be-
ing on the side of God's truth, and justice, and humanity, only in reaching
back into first things, and being a helper there, that then God will be true,
and every man a liar.
And so friends, ideas, emotions, creeds, meetings, sacraments and cere-
monies are all good as they do good : but they are as passive as the pow-
der which, for aught I know, came out of the one cask to slay our dear
father and the wretched murderer, by whose hand he fell. It is a weighty
thing to me that Christ makes those men to whom he tells us he will say,
" Come ye blessed," entirely unconscious that the things they had done
were in any particular way religious. To be sure, they had visited prisons,
fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and talked to the sick ; but then, what
religion was there about that any more than in the Samaritans saving the
life of that dying Jew ? That was merely humanity, helpfulness, morality.
But the prayers the man said when he got back to Mount Gerizim, the
purifications and praises he went through there, these were his religion.
I have no doubt that they did help him, that they inspired him and kept
his heart fresh to do just so next time. But the thing he did and not the
belief he held, or the prayers he said, or the day he observed — the thing he
did was his religion ; the helpfiilness of the man was his holiness, as it will be
and is to those to whom Christ is saying and will say, " Well done ;" while
on the other side, those to whom he declares he will say, " Depart ye curs-
ed," are the men who will say, " Did we not teach in thy name, and cast
out devils, and work wonders ? " But he will say, " Depart, away with you.
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14 The Radical.
I never knew you. You preached and did wonders, but you did not help
any one." And so entirely does this helpfulness make our holiness, that the
same deep and strong principle is made to reach clean across the worlds,
and in the life to come, to give the faithful helper more power to help us, the
best gift of God in heaven. The poet sings of a noble man dead ;
" How can we doubt that for one so true
There must be other nobler work to do ? "
The Lord says, " Well done, thou hast been ruler over ten pounds, I will
make thee ruler over ten tribes."
And so I would affirm and rejoice in a Church broad enough to take into
full membership and full communion all those men who may never come in-
side the Church doors, who never do a hand's turn at Church work, who
know nothing of our beliefs or practices, but whose whole heart, and soul,
and mind, and strength, is devoted to some piece of helpfulness that shall
lift this dark world into the sun ; whereas, that man may be working the
part of him that sent him, whether at the anvil, hke my own father, or at the
foot of Missionary Ridge, charging up hill like my dear adopted son, or rest-
ing for a moment to watch the mimic life on the stage with Abraham Lin-
coln ; let the Angel of Death come ever so suddenly, cast over them his
white robe and whisper peace. That place in which he finds them is the
very nearest point to Heaven ; the first word that greets them is the glad
" Well done." And I would have all such true and faithful men know that
this man would fain say to them, " This that you are doing is work for God ;
you may be a saint of God in that lot where you stand." I sat the other
night ten minutes with Grant, and as I talked, I saw, as in a great panora-
ma, all he had done. When I watched the sweet, pure modesty, and S)rm-
plicity, that seemed to shrink from the fulsome flattery that was being
poured incessantly upon him, as it never shrank from cannon balls and other
things not nearly so hurtful to the simple soul as that he then had to en-
dure, and I said to myself. What, am I to dictate terms on which he shall en-
ter heaven to such a man as this ? What need such a man do, besides first
to throw away that eternal cigar, which no doubt he will have to do, though
what he will do without it is one of the mysteries, to be ready whenever the
angel shall come to call. The work he has done, is a work of God, as sure-
ly and far more painfully than mine, when I went to care for his wounded
and dying. He can say at the last, if the rest of his life shall be of a piece
with the past four years, " I have fought the fight, I have finished my
course, I have kept the faith."
Friends, a mere feeling may fail you, but a helpful spirit never can, be-
cause that is a holy spirit. The ready hand and the fervent heart, if the one
work, and the other beat for good, is sure to be right. You may be filled
out with work for your children in the house until you have no time for
what you call religion ; you may not know which way to turn for business in
the office, and you may wonder whether so much to do in this world, is safe
for the next world ; you may long for the forms and feelings that are
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The Holiness of Helpfulness. 15
counted of such importance in many churches : now do not misunderstand
me ; if they would help you to be more helpful, you cannot get too many.
But if they stand instead of your helpfulness so that in feeling happy you
think you are religious, and don't help, they are dangerous — they may come
to be a deadly opiate.
You may die as this man did, at the close of a long, faithful, helpful life,.
and give no sign, and yet no understanding soul will doubt that, for one so
true there must be other nobler work to do ; or you may die with a testi-
mony shining, like burnished gold, at the end of a life in which you did not
even drive away the dogs from the begger at your gate, but you will wake up
in the torment of an unsatisfied soul, and you will go into the hell of lost op-
portunities. And if you say, I am hedged about, I can do nothing ; I fain
would help, but I cannot — your very longing is help. They also serve
who only stand and wait It is never true that we are^hot helpers. Where
the fervent heart is, there is the servant of God, and unto him comes ever
with the work the reward. He is still and strong in God, because he is a
co-worker together with God, and his life holds for itself a secret which is
not known to another — he has come in his very work to the rest that
remaineth.
"Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase,)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, like a lily in bloom;
An angel writing in a book of gold.
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And, to the presence in the room, he said,
' What writest thou ? ' The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, * The names of those who love the Lord ! '
* And is mine one ? * asked Abou — * Nay, not so,*
Replied the angel — Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still ; and said -- * I pray thee, then, •
"Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'
The angel wrote and vanished. The next night
It came again with great awakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest ;
And lo, Ben Adhem's name led all the rest"
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THE LORD'S SUPPER.
FIRST PAPER. — ITS ORIGIN.
APPARENTLY, the institution of the Lord's Supper became estab-
lished without any conscious intention on the part of its founder.
That Passover supper in which it originated, was not peculiar to
the little group of thirteen, whose meeting in an upper room is so familiar,
so significant, and so sacred. Almost every house in Jerusalem was that
night a scene of a similar entertainment Like our Thanksgiving dinner,
it was observed by families, and circles of dear friends ; for with its Relig-
ious and National meaning it pertained immediately to the home. The
Paschal lamb which had been sacrificed in the Temple, and was roasted en-
tire, must be disposed of that night (if necessary, by fire,) solely by the
circle for which it had been procured. As it was served at the table, the
father of the family, or the " proclaimer " of the feast explained how the
observance commemorated the great deliverance from Egyptian bondage.
The lamb pointed to the vicarious sacrifice, whereby the Hebrew first-born
were passed over when the angel of destruction took the first-bom of the
Egyptians, and the bitter sauce with which it was eaten, to the hard servi-
tude suffered in the land of their oppression. The Supper was a solemn
feast It was at once commemorative, symbolical, and sacrificiaL Such
has generally been the Lord's Supper ; and we have here one of those sur-
prising coincidences which every now and then meet us in history, whereby
later institutions and customs find root in earlier ones, and which, in Re-
ligion, are sure to be regarded as the result of miraculous foresight and
interposition.
The " Last Supper " was, in all its externals, simply the annual passover
supper. " As they were eating, Jesus took bread and blessed it, and brake
it, and gave it to the disciples." Precisely thus he must have done as
" Proclaimer " of the feast ; and as we read farther of his taking the cup,
giving thanks, and commending it to these disciples we witness but the or-
dinary conduct of the Passion meal. After partaking of the Paschal lamb,
the guests must always share with the host the common loafi and the com-
mon cup, in the order, and with the blessings here set forth. The pecu-
liarity of the Last Supper consisted solely in the new significance attached
to certain of the emblems, in virtue of the thrilling occasion. The Evan-
gelists omit the first and principal part of the Supper, because Jesus made
no extraordinary use of that ; while the last part, which was commonly of
secondary importance, is made to stand out as if it were a special and pe-
culiar ceremony. If Jesus had intended a sacrificial significance in the
Supper, such as the Church has generally supposed, how certainly he must
have pointed to the sacrificial' Lamb, as how to be fulfilled in himself^ and
have said : " This is my flesh which I give for the redemption of the
world." But passing over that very thing upon which the Church has been
pleased to dwell so much, he fixed the attention of the disciples upon the
bread and wine, the mere complements of that feast, the staple articles of
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The Lord's Supper. 17
daily food. The Paschal lamb was tasted but once in the year ; and if
Jesus had followed the ecclesiastical teaching, he would have laid hold upon
that, to set forth his own sacrifice. Yet we behold him quietly ignoring the
great figure, which, according to Church tradition. Providence had for
years been preparing for him, and taking up the commonest provisions of
the table, the bread and the wine, for symbols and mementos. It was just
like him who made so little of artificial imposing ceremonials, and so much
of the ordinances of Nature.
That Last Supper was an occasion of great solemnity. In the earlier
part of it, it had been developed that Judas was involved in a conspiracy
against Jesus, and the traitor had left the company in rage and shame. In
the moments which followed, when death stared Jesus full in the face, the
broken bread, and poured out wine, spoke to him of his impending fete, and
he only interpreted his thoughts to his disciples in saying " This is my
body." " This is my blood." We cannot be quite sure that he attributed
in any sense a sacrificial efficacy to his blood. Yet, accustomed as he was
to bold figures, we need not deny that he employed language which might
be so grossly interpreted. To have anticipated some great good to result
fix)m his death would have been no more than is justified by the experience
of many martyrs. We must not lose sight of the simple and most natural
suggestions in far-fetched analogies. These latter the Church would be
ready enough to supply. It is much more likely that devoted, theorizing
disciples should have added sacrificial and mysterious ideas, than that Jesus
should have confiised the solemn impressions of the hour with thoughts
foreign to the general spirit and scope of his teachings. " This do in remem-
brance of me," that is the central thought Apparently, Jesus had been
looking forward for some time, with unwonted interest, to this very celebra-
tion ; not for the sake of instituting a new rite, but from a purely human
feeling. " With desire have I desired to eat this passover with you before
I suffer." He had been oppressed with a sense of the speedy termination
of his ministry. He had longed once more for this dear religious and
brotherly festival, as those dear friends near to die, would gladly see again
on earth, the old festal or sacramental rites. " I shall not any more eat
thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of God."
What could be more natural than with such thoughts, for him to ask a
loving remembrance. He was demanding nothing of posterity. Only as
a friend of friends he craved personal remembrance. In his affections he
had woman*s sensibility ; and towards the little band of disciples his heart
yearned with home-like devotion. How can we force in here sacramental
intentions. No man of that day treated the ancient ceremonies so lightly
as Jesus did. None felt so keenly their tendency to hinder spiritual growth.
The probabilities are decidedly against his undertaking to establish any
forms. The Kingdom of Heaven which he pl-eached, was yet in anticipa-
tion, and while that was yet in question, or rather, while it was hopefully,
yet painfully struggling for existence, how could he be employed in devising
its rituals ? I cannot find anywhere in his life a single anxious thought be-
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i8 The Radical.
stowed upon the ceremonies of the new dispensation. Always, he is occu-
pied with ideas and practical duties. Though he himself in earlier days re-
ceived the baptism of John, he administered the rite to none ; whether, like
Paul, deeming it secondary, or like the Friends, useless, we cannot be posi-
tive. Only the least historical of the Gospels allows him in any way to
give it his sanction in his own ministry.
" This do ye^ as oft as yi drink it, in remembrance of me,*^ But for the
practice of the early Church we might suppose that Jesus meant to crave
especial remembrance in the yearly passover supper. Possibly he did, and
the disciples misunderstood him. The most human and beautiful meaning,
however, is just that which the custom of the primitive Church implies.
In their daily or weekly social gatherings the bread of which all partook
suggested him, from whom the new life of all was felt to be derived, and
the wine commemorated that divine self-sacrifice of which his martyr
blood was the emblem.
Had Jesus proposed a perpetual ordinance, he must have been more def-
inite. Who can dwell upon the scene, and not feel that the one thing
longed for was sympathy with him in his sacrifice — the communion of the
disciples through the common fellowship of the Mart}^: master ? Who does
not see that the form must be pliable to the spirit, and that to obey truly the
teacher, any given ceremony must be modified or abandoned in humble
subservience to its idea and intention ?
If a formal rite would not have been repulsive to Jesus, it was at least
wholly unanticipated, and if he to-day should return to the earth, and look
in upon his professed followers, the sacrifice of the Mass might more grieve
but not more surprise him, than the Protestant Sacrament of the Commu-
nion.
ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAIRUS.
Independence. — I would have all good people consider well this poetic
tradition of a man who knew his own business : —
"There was an old man had a poker.
He painted his face with red ochre.
When folk said, * You 're a Guy,'
He made no reply,
But knocked them all down with his poker."
Whatever shall be the verdict which men of moderation, of good worldly
sense, tempered with a Christian retuming-of-good-fbr-evil may render, I
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Enlightenments. 19
am disposed to be so much of a heathen myself^ as to cry*- Bravo ! old
man with a poker and face of red ochre. Thou didst assert thine independ-
ence. Whose business but your own, that you used red ochre ?
Belief. — The first progressive word is this I start with. It must be
that Jesus had some such idea, when he said, '* He that believeth not shall bi
damtud,^^ I quite agree to that. The trouble with the world is, it does not
believe enough ? Poor, unbelieving world I That *s the truth of the matter.
It believes a few things — terribly. But it don't believe things enough. It
shouts, Infidel^ to all the truest believers. Yea, it shouts itself hoarse.
Shout away ! I shout back to you — Blessed be that infidelity which be-
licves so much it casts out fear J
Well Enough. — " Let well enough alone." Why ? Because it is well
enough ? Because there is nothing better ? Are all things just as you would
have them, if you could have all things as you want them ? Are all things
Right t "No." Then why don*t you right them, or try? "Better bear
the ills we have than fly to others we know not o£" Had you ? Well then,
bear away. But one thing I know ; you *re cowardly ; you don't believe.
And I say unto you, just as Jesus did, because you don*t believe you shall
be damned — until you do. Now a man must believe that there are no ills
to fly to which are not better than those he has ; of course, I mean, if his
purpose is not to seek ills \i,yx\ goods. In trying to know more and do better,
there must be all manner of help and furtherance extended by the wise
God's plan. Don't be so afraid, O trembling world I Oh, you shall be
shocked, and shocked, and shocked ! until you come up to the help of the
Lord in a believing, decent way. — That 's true I
Reform. — Society is never ready for reform, let it tell the story. It has
but one motto : " Let well enough alone." A sad well enough^ if it were
well enough. But society is ready, always ready for reform ; needs it, waits
for it, must have it, or perish. It never likes it, of course, as a sick man
never likes medicine. But then, there is no escape : God will have it so.
Indeed, he has so fashioned the soul of man that it can keep its self-respect
only on such condition. But then, again, it does seem as though most
people in the world would not only lose self-respect, but even forget they
ever had any, unless they were lashed up to the work of finding it The
majority of people are not reformers in the true, full sense of the term ; not
joyous, happy, willing, whole-souled workers ; workers with faith : faith in
the untried future. The gain we must expect lies in this direction. It is the
self-moving life which does not want to be driven ; which loves to carry its
cross up Calvary hill, or any other. How much better to acquiesce in the
Eternal Will, and good-naturedly, and with enthusiasm, help on reform, and
00, and evermore on, than to be so surly and snappish ; telling God, if not
in so many spoken words fi-om your mouth, in your actions which speak
louder than words, — " What miserable , good for nothing work }rou have
set us about Please let us alone, won't you ? " Oh, for shame I
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A SIGN OF THE TIMES.
THE Address of Rev. E. H. Sears, of Wayland, before the Alumni
of the Divinity School, in July last, merits a distinct recognition,
and a better notice than it got in the daily papers at the time. I
was not merely " able," — as the gentlemanly reporter said, — it was even
great, and wonderful of its kind. By which is implied that it was a " kind "
of address, to please a " kind " of men who are apt to constitute themselves
into the body-guard of Christianity. That is, the men who assume to be,
and to act on every occasion, as its chosen defenders and champions, and
who bristle all over with points of antagonism to what they are pleased to
call Naturalism, or the " Spirit of the Age," forgetting that that spirit as
expressed in civilization is not unchristian, and that it has been their high-
est boast and office on former occasions, to proclaim " Christianity the reli-
gion of nature." No matter — if this Naturism can be made to serve a
purpose, or to point a moral — it must be held up in the most partial, and
therefore, ludicrous light, its radical evil, its destructiveness shown, and its
" utter impotence to build up " [the church ?] must be exhibited, in order to
destroy confidence in its method and results ; and so give men a chance, at
least, to believe in the divine and saving efficacy of Christianity.
While admitting the truths contained in this remarkable address, it is
necessary to enter and record our protest against the assumption, that the
author was entirely right in measuring Nature by himself, and saying what
she can, or cannot do, as an influence on literature, or as a power in relig-
ious thought What this or that man thinks is nothing to Nature, unless it
can be shown that Nature uses him to think, and that this thinking nature
is wrong. Science, which is only a form of the human imderstanding, is
necessarily v/r-religious, since it detaches man from Nature, and Nature from
God. The scientific view of nature is therefore wrong, because it is incom-
plete. It requires to be balanced and offset by the moral-aesthetic, or poetic
view which gives the other a fairer side of Nature. Beauty it is, which
comprehends that law, " whose seat is the bosom of God, and her voice the
harmony of the world." The world as looked at through the eyes of a great
poet, is not the world of science — as this latter, is not the common prose
world of men and women ; yet it takes the highest effort of religious genius
to express what common men feel. Their instincts travel the same way
with the Metaphysical spirit, which takes the " high a priori road," over
transcendental ideas. The divine aspect and symbolism of nature, its the-
ology, so to speak, is only seen by the poet or prophet Small chance has
theology, when it comes to the retort or crucible.
The method of science is by analysis, and decomposition ; and neither
man, God, nor the devil, if there be one, will gain aught by such a precess,
save degradation or annihilation. Had the lecturer said that science in na-
turaj leads to pure nihilism, but that nature in religione leads to God, he
would have conveyed a far truer idea than he did by representing her as
purely destructive of religious ideas and institutions ; hence nature, by in-
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A Sign of the Times. 21
ference, Christless and Godless, both in effect and cause. We admit no
such nature in our theology. It comes too near the doctrine of total de-
pravity. All such is spiritual defect in man, not religious effect of Nature.
Call it infidelity if you will, it is not natural The natural method in theol-
ogy is the true one, and not more radical than conservative. Nature is al-
ways good and true to herself, and few are found worthy to interpret her.
Not hers the vain sciolism, the upstart criticism, or philosophy which denies
to man the highest natural endowment — a moral and religious nature. Call
it — the criticism — as it was called, not nature, but nature-w/^ — a vile word
for a viler thing. Nature, be sure, hates all isms^ as she hates the deviL
Who talks of " dividing the whole, and throwing away the upper and better
half? " The charge of sectionalism is one which the true Naturist repels with
indignation, and it is, possibly, more averse to a transcendentalist than to
any other. He gives the widest scope and interpretation to the word " na-
ture,"— not as Mr. Sears does, who employs it in various senses, viz : as
simple nature, then a way of thinking, a tendency of thought, a phase and
fashion of philosophy, the ism of somebody and even that wretched man of
straw, which is knocked down so cleverly. The idea of nature is that of one
whole thing, the sum total of all created things, the world, the universe. It
properly includes what some regard as divine and supematuraL " The
imiverse is the only miracle, and in it is contained all that is miraculous."
So said St. Augustine, who was a Christian. He would rather that Chris-
tianity should come in the circle of nature, than that natitre should appear
quietly ignoring Christianity. Which is the ism here ? But this is the
ground of complaint, the precise charge brought by Mr. Sears against the
Naturists ; that they are incompetent to judge of Christianity, which, w^
suppose, is a " super-natureism," — at any rate, an order of truth above nat-
ural law ; consequentiy, above and beyond the reach and apprehension of
the lawyers, and divines, philosophers, and men of science, the high priests
of Nature, who know only her laws, and her religion, and are very, very
wrong to claim Christianity as any part of it. But they do no more than
Christians, who boast that " Christianity is the religion of Nature." That
men who read only the natural law, should be less versed in the moral
law than those who make that their exclusive study, is natural ; but he is
nearer the truth, who insists that the natural law is moral ; and that no
truth, no law was promulgated from the moral Mount of Christianity which
is not thundered back from the law of nature. In truth, that law is neither
pagan nor Christian. Not out of Nature springs the light she is read by :
but she is what you are ; and in what spirit you come, that she appears ;
for Nature " wears the colors of the spirit" Given Christ, and she makes
Christians of us all. Nature stands up for God. But this Naturism is
going to the devil. It is Rationalism, the spirit of the Critical Philosophy,
or whatever represents the progress of revolutionary opinions within the
Church, in alliance with the high and mighty powers of knowledge in
the world, at work, resolving the religions of earth — Christianity among
them — into their primitive elements, into natural phenomena. Worse than
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22 The Radical.
that, the ground of religion itself^ appeared to be gradually giving way fai
man ; his reason, his conscience, along wi^ the Bible, the historical Jesus,
the Christ, and his authority, appeared entirely natural or phenomenal, that
is, visionary. God, the Soul, Immortality, were seen but as the " baseless
fabric of a vision." There was a great landslide of religious ideas, leav-
ing the soul bare, and comfortless. Naked as it came into the world, it
would go out Immortality and Regeneration were not for it in a state
of nature — they were supernatural ideas, which, put into certain mills of
logic, and ground into fine dust of philosophy, were, forthwith, blown away
by winds of criticism, and made nothing of— a kind of patent annihilator,
Christ and Christianity were projected by the "spirit of the age," and were
nothing now but sumus et umhra^ mental shadow, and smoke, or haze over
the landscape of a transcendental philosophy. '" Nothing was sacred or safe
from the attack of this skeptical and profane spirit ; it was just only in its
impartial destructiveness, a universal destroyer. All religious and Chris-
tian traditions, creeds and sjrstems, fled away from before the face of this
awful critic, and, like the heavens and the earth in the vision of St John,
there was found no place for them. If it chased the devil off the earth,
It did the same also to God. If it showed the absurdity of a local hell, so
likewise of a local heaven, a local deity, a " throne," and a " Judgment
Day." It denied the immortality of the soul and scouted the idea of a resur-
rection from the dead. Our bodies, indeed, might be planted and sprout
into pansies, or rise and float as purple clouds in the evening sky. And
that was the only resurrection possible to a materialist or spiritualist, an
atheist, a pantheist, or a transcendentaHst, who could never get any higher
than the clouds, on his way to heaven.
Immortality, he (Sears,) thought, was not given in nature ; or if it was
given, it died a natiu^ death. As to being conscious of immortality, that
was talking nonsense ; and consciously, or unconsciously, Theodore Parker
lied about it That is, he told a fsdsehood of ignorance knowingly ; since,
how could a man be conscious of his future life ? This, as we understand,
is Sears's version of Parker's belief in immortality. But what is Mr. Sears'
own belief, and how does he hold, and authenticate this doctrine of immor-
tality ? Does he believe it because somebody has told him, or because, in
rare moments perhaps, he feels, is conscious of his immortality ? Does he
deny this feeling to be native and original with him, or will he say that
once for all, it got deposited in the brain and heart of Christ, and that be
believed it vicariously for the race ? Jesus said, " Before Abraham was, I
am." Must we believe in pre-existence, too, and for the same reason, L ^.,
Jesus believed it Which is talking nonsense, to say as Parker did, he waa
conscious of immortality, or to say as Jesus did, that he existed before
he was bom ? Mr. Sears says trufy enough, that we are not conscious of
our future lives ; but ^e past, to a certain extent, guarantees the future,
and knowing ourselves in the past, we afiirm on general principles, that
what has been and is, will continue to be. The being we are conscious ol^
is the same being of whom we have recollection and forethought ; and if we
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A Sign of the Times. 23
could lose all coBsdous&ess, we should at the same time lose all memory,
and thought of being. But we cannot lose this memory, or this thought ;
it is established in consciousness; and is continuous with the life of man«
Immortality is certainly not Christian, not an exclusive or aristocratic idea,
it is inclusive and common to all religions, as it is common to all races of
men, to all nations and tribes upon the face of the earth. Least of all is it
a supernatural idea, since men are naturally given to believe it, whether
they are conscious of it, or not But men are not conscious of their pre-
existence, nor do they naturally beheve it ; and if any one was asked about
his living other lives in other worlds before this, he would stare and be
tempted to answer : " I disremember it"
For our part we would as lief believe in the one as in the other, though
there is this to say for immortality : it is universally believed, whereas the
other is not Immortality is an instinct of soul, or it is nothing. It may
be doubted, as any instinct may, and the doubt should be taken as the high-
est proof of it But Mr. Parker's instincts were all ideas — he had no
doubts. He did not believe in pre-existence, that we know o^ and he did
not believe that believing on Jesus is going to make us immortal Can we»
whether we believe or not, be any more immortal than we were made to be ?
We say the belief is natural, and if immortality is therefore a lie, or an illu-
sion, it is all right Nature then deceives man to his good, and not to his
hurt She makes immortality a form of Hope, and not of Memory. Yet
this idea once lodged in memory, will always remain. It cannot be got rid
of. It is an instinct that springs up in our nature, and stands there like the
face of the Sphinx, provoking doubt, and rebuking our natural curiosity.
It is more than half concealed in the sands of unconsciousness ; yet no other
idea, no thing in nat\ure has so much the testimony of universal conscious-
ness. Jesus, on the strength of it, might safely affirm, and bid defiance lo
the fools who misunderstood him, that he always existed, and was conscious
of being from eternity — just what he was. Is not character, the spiritual
body oi man, fashioned for eternity ? Did not the character pre-exist
in all its elements, and these latter, were they not arranged and modified by
unchangeable laws of generation and descent ? " Our birth is but a sleep
and ^f (^getting; " our death may be but the instantaneous waking, and
recovery of former knowledge. The soul has prescience. Is Immortality
a dream, or as a visum when <me awakeih f Is it a thing of the past or of
the future ; or is it present as a vision of the waking soul ? Man thinks he
has a soul, and soul by Jesus' definition, is pre-existent But if pre-exist-
ent, n^y not preternatural ? Immortality may not be given in nature, be-
cause it is given in soul, which is over natiure, not merely above it, but over
it, as the sky is over the earth. " Then shall the body return unto the dust
as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave U*^ I cannot
pictiue to myself the mode of a spirit's return to God, or the nM>de of its
existence after returning, any more than I can frame in mind or imagina-
tion, the unimaginable heaven of beauty and glory that is waiting to re-
ceive it ; but I can believe in such a return, ascension, or resurrection of
the spirit firom the burial of the flesh — nothing is more natural than it
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24 The Radical.
Where then is the absurdity of saying that a man is conscious of his im-
mortality — not yours or mine — not immortality in the past or future tense ;
but as the present fact of the soul ? Granting man to be formed in the
image of God, and aspiring after soul-likeness to Him, as a being capable of
virtue, he must be capable and conscious of his immortality, or conscious of
being immortal, — which is the same as a man being God-like, and having
a virtue, a power as indestructible and eternal as the Source from whence
it came. I do not care whether this power comes " from above," as Jesus
said, or from below, as Sears would intimate ; it is a diyine power, and I do
not believe it leads naturally to the pit, or if it ever leads man there, it
does not leave him, but carries straight on, though hell, to heaven. We
hold in memory, and shall always hold, two things which we learned in
the Divinity School ; things strongly impressed on the mind, and which
impressions, all our subsequent readings and thinkings, tended to deepen
and confirm. One thing learned through a critical study of the Gospels,
was the divinely perfect humanity of Jesus ; and " Don't give up that
idea," said the Hebrew professor, — "that Jesus was a man — the most
precious part of the Gospel."
The other thing, equally important, was to beware of exclusiveness, of
partial views and half-truths ; of cutting the sphere of knowledge in two,
and putting a part for the whole ; — of anything like bigotry, in short
The good Dn Francis, whose memory is so fragrant, if his lectures were a
little tiresome, at times, was an enemy to bigotry and exclusiveness ; he
was for keeping the eye open, and the mind, to receive light, come from
what quarter it might ; and he would place a subject in all possible lights,
and give the most opposite opinions upon it, that his pupils might have a
chance to judge which was the most reasonable and correct The test of
any doctrine was not, " Is it found in the Bible, and supported by authority,
but, " Is it true ? " " Follow the truth," he would say, and did say on one oc-
casion with a grand emphasis, — " follow the truth wheresoever it leads, if it
should lead to hell." We honor him for saying that, though he did not always
follow his own truth, his own teaching. But he indicated the £ault of this ad-
dress, and of every other which is exclusive, partial, and one-sided. Nature
to Mr. Sears is not natural, not true, nor is he to blame for misrepresenting
it A man of culture, learning, memory, £uicy, and fine scholarly taste, is
shocked by the rude naturalism of the age, and sees Christianity in danger
of being overwhelmed, and ** put out " by it Therefore, his light shall no
longer remain hidden under the Unitarian bushel, in an obscure country par-
ish. He will, publicly, before a congregation of ministers, snuff the light of
this fading Christianity, till, in comparison with the " light of nature," it
shall appear exceedingly bright and " glorified." Let us rejoice greatly in
its beams, and not quarrel with the brethren, whether it be a natural, or a
supernatural light that we have seen. j. s.
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SELF-DEPENDENCE.
Weary of myself; and sick of asking
What I am, and what I oug^t,to be,
At the vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.
And a look of passionate desire
O'er the sea and to the stars I send :
** Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me,
Calm me, ah, compose me to the end.
"Ah, once more," I cried, "ye Stars, ye Waters,
On my heart your mighty charm renew :
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you,
Feel my soul becoming vast like you."
From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven,
Over the lit sea's unquiet way.
In die rustling night-air came die answer —
" Wouldst diou ^ as these are? Zive as they.
"Unaffiigfajed by die silence roimd them,
J[Jndistracted by the sights they see,
These demand not that the things without them
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
" And with joy the stars perform their shining.
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll ;
For alone they live, nor pine with noting
All the fever of some dl^ring souL
" Bounded by diemselves, and unobservant
In what state God's other works may be.
In their own tasks all their powers pouring.
These attain the mighty life you see."
O aur-bom Voice ! long since, severely clear
A cry like thine in my own heart I hear.
" Resolve to be thyself: and know, that he
Who finds himself loses his miteiy." — AtMew ArmUi
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RECOGNITION.
** The glow, the thrill of Hfe.
Where, where do these abound ? **
There is a mood, which, could man netain it, be might be borne on
forever down an enchanted stream. And cheerfiilestfiact beside, this
mood is the most becoming in which human nature is ever clothed.
It is a true royal robe, and )ret, praise to the human, the one who is
thus arrayed seems more dian ever then to be himself. He seems at
home. He has not put on aught that is foreign to him. He has put
off the foreign. He finds new and welcome meanings in ^ sea, and
rocks, and sky.
** Allte dear from cast to west,"
Yet he sees out of his own good hinnan eyes. It is not, that no
heaven's glories stand revealed to him throi^ some celestial lens.
Rather that before, he saw through a glass, but " a glass darkly." All
the while the kingdom of heaven was at hand ; but he was a blind
dweller, who could not see the splendors of his own abode. He
had not even surveyed himself; had never turned his eyes inward
upon his own soul, and so knew not that in entertsuning himself,
he was entertaining " an angel unawares." He was the dwarf of him-
self, whose only prophecies of deliverance from dwarfdom were the
sighs in which he prayed for some friendly sword to strike ofif his ugly
head. He had not learned what the Greek tau^t, that " the more
thou acknowledgest thyself a man, the more diou seemest a god."
Or better yet, what is as true, that the truer a man is to his capa-
bilities the more he is a god.
It was the possibility of this high mood, this new birth of tnan, and
its revelations which Jesus saw when he declared with such personal
emphasis, that only the re-bom could enter heaven.
And this was his heaven : the tranquil state that follows the recog-
nition of the universal presence of God. The satisfaction that flows
from the preception of ihe soul of things. " God is a Spirit," said he,
and wherever the Spirit sits enthroned, there is God's kingdom —
if in a man, then where that man is, heaven is. His eye was directed
mainly to the Spirit which incarnated itself in men, and chiefliest to
the Spirit abiding in himself. His declaration, "the kingdom of
God is within you," was the natural application of his own experience
to others. When he sdd, "Ye believe in God, believe also in me,"
he implied Ae precept: "Believe in yourselves, too, whenever you are
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Squantum Beach Letter. ^
awakened to a sense of the Spirit's presence in you.'' And tfaey
would be awakened to such a sense, the moment they were as true to
themselves, as he was to himsel£
What now shall we say of one who draws his most wonderfully full^
and new, and intimate sense of the Spirit from natural objects?
Who finds readier relief from his oppressions and bewilderments^ is
lifted hi|^er and strengthened more, in companionship with nature,
than in the society of men and women ; in communion with the sea
and sky, than in the neighborhood of the best and greatest ?
I sat on the sea-shore, in midsummer, reading. A branch which
the winds were swaying above me, knocked and thumped against
ray head, in such friendly and caressing way, that I felt the thrill
which comes from the consciousness of being loved, and I turned
from my page and looked wonderingly upon my new lover.
Then, as I mused, my eyes ^ayed to the sea, whose rippled sheen
was the branch's back-ground. When lo, the sea, too, seemed to wear
a friendly countenance. Far out, the billows waved their white caps,
«— at kerchieft — as if to testify recognition and regard ; and as they
Beared the shore, there was added the welcome of their hearty wave-
voices ; until at last when they touched the beach, and threw up their
white ^>ray'arms towards me, and their earthly bodies vanished, they
seemed to have immolated themselves upon the altar of their love.
Straightway I felt stronger, larger spirit-statured, as if my soul had
received the increment of theirs.
Then I said, surely the spirit everywhere awaiteth recog-
MiTiOM. Giuseppe.
SQUANTUM BEACH LETTER.
"Ten gallons of rum?"
** Me give all. Land enough for Indian ; but no nun enough. Me
thank you much I "
So the bargain was struck. Tisquanto and Captain P. made a
transfer of fire-water and land. For himself and people, Tisquanto
gave a qmt-daim-deed by word of mouth, and Westward, or Some*
whitherward they went, ten gallons of rum richer for Captain
P/s disinterested kindness in opening up so palatable a bargain.
And Captain P. could not complain, for land enough he also got,
tbough in t^KMe ancient days it must have been rough enough, too.
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28 The Radical.
Civilization, hard as it has tugged on this New England coast, has
left nature here, wild and untameable to this day. Two hundred years
and more, have carried off some forest, but Rock and Ocean abide,
and now as ever before, they say : " Can't be bought or given for a
puncheon of rum, or gold 1 " Uncompromising Rock and Ocean 1
truly I am glad to know you both.
Hard by us — dwellers in the " Ocean Shanty," — is the famous rock
known to all comers here, as " Squaw Rock." The legend runs that
when Tisquanto sold his birthright for a small mess of rum, and moved
off with his anti-Maine-law tribe, a solitary woman, faithful to her
native land, refused to follow. Two years alone she lived in quiet — -
nay, not so : the white enemy dared not leave her alone and in quiet,
— eccentric witch that she was — poor Squaw with a soul ! She was
threatened, and driven, and hunted, and last of all an armed band of
a/ims pursued her to the rock by the sea, where ^e calmly waited
their approach, and then fulfilled her vow never to be taken alive, nor
to live an)rwhere off the Great Spirit's hunting ground, bequeathed by
her fathers. One brave leap gave her life to tiie Ocean-Spirit, and she
was at peace. " Crazy Squaw," her pursuers said, " But she 's gone
now, and it 's best for her, and for us all, we reckon."
Yes, "to/.". "You are in my way, here on God's Earth ; get out
of my way." Yet so it ever was ; so it is. This Earth is too smalL
Every man and woman can't begin to have a farm. " Oh, struggling,
disappointed, weary children, hear me " saith Mother Eartii, " and be-
have. Am I not the mother of ye all ? ye lie upon my lap, and I feed
ye from my breasts. Dost know that I am no respecter of persons ?
Dost thou own me alone ? or thou ? or thou ? or thou ? Yes, all, all ! I
say then. Children, peace. Share me equally, be content I remain
for you, and for all comers after you ; but not yours to give am I :
you die; I give anew to whom I give new birth.
" * Race after race, man after man.
Have thought that I liv*d but for them.
That they were my glory and joy. —
They are dust, they are changed, they are gone. —
Iremain;'"
and I am no respecter of persons. Unto all I give liberally, and
upbraid them not, from generation to generation."
The Children do not h^ed. They bustie, they rush, they hurry on ;
they get mad, they fight ; they build elegant jails and call them
" Homes," barring all the windows, locking all die doors ; they build
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Squantum Beach Letter. 29
high fisncesy and lay huge stone walls; they say, "my land," "my
house ; " " stay you away at your own home, if you Ve got one." Ah,
well, the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the
children of light But will their day and generation never end, and
the time come for the children of light to have ti day and generation ?
Pray on, pray on, and work on, Children of light ! It must be that
you shall marry Man with Nature, and bring the heavenly Kingdom.
I have all fa^th in you. And Nature will out with her glory 1
But what means this I see outside across the window panes ? there
are one, two, three,'foiu-, five, spider webs — snares for the innocent (?)
It 's a game of death out there, — for there 's no " or life " in the Spi-
der-programme. It *s " Fly into my parlor, Mr. Fly, and die." It 's
" 1 11 munch you for supper, and breakfast, I '11 dine off you for din-
ner." But after all, the spider is doing well. He can always plead
" necessity." And so — a more than Blondin — on his ropes he moves
poised and safe for his victims, while all nature chants " Well done "
for praise and requiem. Again, it is told of the ants, that with
them Slavery is a divine institution, provided for in their very Consti-
tution, and that no amendment is ever possible ; and furthermore,
that, up to this day since creation's dawn, never has an abolitionist
ventured to appear among them. God sends no mad agitators to dis-
turb their peace ; their " Race of Ham " hugs its chains with joy
unspeakable. But, I conclude, it must be that these insects have
inalienable rights which men have not, among which is the one I have
mentioned. They may, can, must feed on each other to live ; but
men — so it is agreed upon as theory — can only live wken they help
each other live. Strange conclusion, is it not? not so much liberty as
the ants, and the spiders, and other insects that perish. Poor Soul-
bound humaa race. Nevertheless, Nature wills it thus. Be it so. I
submit, for one, — to the extent of my soul ; and I charge thee. Soul :
go on to perfection ! O rebels, and copperheads ! — Nature knew all
about you before '61 in this nineteenth century of Grace. But now she
whispers : " Pardon, pardon ; go, sin no more." Why won't you,
while the lamps hold out to bum ?
But I will return to you, Squantum ; and to the memory of your
martyr squaw. I should rage upon you if it would be a becoming
thing for me to do, or if it would surely do you any good. As the
case stands, I will speak kind words to you. We are told, you know,
by some poet— and poets are prophets always speaking the truth—
that,
"A little word in kindness spoken,
A motion, or a tear "—
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30 The Radical.
and so on, and so finth. I do not finish the stanza, for it b not aB to
the point, so far as you are concerned. But, anyway, let ^s be friends*
So kindly -plain 1 11 talk. (No wounds so faithful or fruitful as those
made by a friend.) You were not unlike the world as it was in the
beginning, and has been, and is now to some extent And like the
world, when yoiu* own came to you, you knew her not, but drove her
into the sea. You made fine geese^ather pillows for your wholesale
Rum-Lord ; but your tawney Saintess, who asked no pillow but the
ft)rest leaves, by your consent, had not where to lay her head. But
now, I proclaim to you, that diat Squaw-woman so true, faithful, brav^
— who would not leave her home by tfie ocean, was your royal spouse
and prophetess sent. Before Thoreau she was; knew all Ay
secrets, and loved thee with a love stronger than life. For thee she
died and rose again, I am sure ; and hath ascended up on high, I be-
Heve, to evermore plead .with diee, \intil thou dost ascend also to hail
thyself redeemed. New bom you must be, for — *
^ St(^, stop right there. You came down here to accept my ho»*
pitalities, and stra^tway spyii^ out my blind deeds of two hundred
years gone by, you begin a-lecturing me. Is it habit with you, or
business, or no-business, or what is it ? You tell some common-place
truths, and are friendly enough disposed. But might you not wait
with some show of modesty, until a further acquaintance revealed to
you Squantum of to-day ? Think you I have Hved to no purpose ?
Have I flung idly away all the experiences of my years ? Shall my
sins forever cling to me, so that I must be preached at by every up-
start of every generation ? Now I beg you to consider that you have
revealed no new thing to me ; and I would likewise have you know
that there is many a secret of life you have not guessed. Listen : If
you would be a teacher, discover first the need of such as chance to be
listeners. The good people of this world are not all fools. They don't
ask you for A, B, C. Take now and then some things as known and
granted. And, pardon me, one don't like to hear his femlts gone over
widi, especially when he has outgrown many of them, and is trying
hard to ou^ow others.
** ' Saint Augustine I well hast thou said, *
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread,
Beneath our feet each deed of shune 1'
But then.
•• • We have not whigs, we cannot soar ;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.' ^
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Squantum Beach Letter. ^ 31
And this is just the business I have been engs^ged in. It was for
this reason I could not better hear and endure your lecturing. You
must understand that all professions of friendship are cheap as dirt to
me, if my would-be friend fails in recognition of the virtue I have. I
ask not friendly jHty, when by my o^ hard thinking and strugglii^ I
have escaped the need of it Nay then, understand me, and believe
me, / ^ daiiy. So am I not to be diaiged with the dead day's
crime."
Well, wdl, Squantum, I preach to mysdf as moch as to you or
others. You talk wisely and solemnly. I make my bow to you.
Have n*t you a message for the world at large ?
*^ Say to the world at large : Squantum is spread by the Eternal
Sea. No finer earth, no finer sky. Saw you last night's sunset when
die clouds were on fire ? Speak of that Saw you a few nights ago
the TDOoa blood-red come up out of the water? Speak of that But
for your clam-bakes — they are vulgar; speak not of them. Tell
Ite to an the world : at Squantum the barbarous fetters of civiliza-
tion are broken ; at Squantum there is freedom to do as you please,
proclaimed and won by a martyr Squaw 1 Say no more."
Squantiun 1 I see, I confess. You alone are wise. And humbly
am I, your obedient, Harry, qf Squantum.
** OcxAN SHANTy," Spsoftiim Bioek, \
aoih a/Attgust, 1S65. )
VTODCRN times find themselves with an immense system of institntions, estab-
lished £M:ts, accredited dogmas, customs, rules, which have come to them
fiFom times not modem. In this system their life has to be carried forward ; yet
they have a sense that this system is not of their own creation, that it by no means
corresponds exactly with the wants of their actual life, that for them it is customary,
not rational The awakening of this sense is the awakening of the modern spirit
The modem spirit is now awake almost everywhere ; the sense of want of corres-
pondence between the forms of modem Europe and its spirit, between the new
wine of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and the old bottles of the eleventh
and twelfth centuries, or even of the sixteenth and seventeenth, almost every one
now perceives ; it is no longer dangerous to affirm that this want of correspondence
exists ; people are even beginning to be shy of denying it To remove this want
of correspondence is beginning to be the settled encteavor of most persons of good
^-^MathiwAmekL
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LnTBRS TO Various Peesons, By Hxnrt D. Thorxau. Boeton : Ticiaior
& Fields.
In bringing out this Book of 'Letters, Ralph Waldo Emerson has well served
the public, and offered a graceftil tribute to the memory of his friend. We print a
few paragraphs from different letters :
** What can be expressed in words can be expressed in life. My actual life is a
fiict, in view of which I have ho occasion to congratulate mvself ; but for my faith
and aspiration I have respect It is from these that I speaL Every man's posi-
tion is in fact too simple to be described. I have sworn no oath, I have nor designs
on society, or Nature, or God. I am simply what I am, or to begin to be that I
live in the present, I only remember the past, and anticipate the future. I love to
live. I love reform better than its modes. There is no history of how bad became
better. I believe something, and there is nothing else but that I know that I
am. I know that another is who knows more than I, who takes interest in me,
whose creature, and yet whose kindred, in one sense, am I. I know that the enter-
prise is worthy. I know that things work well. I have heard no bad news."
** If you seek the warmth even of affection from a similar motive to that from
which cats and dogs and slothful persons hug the fire, because your temperature is
low through sloth, you are on the dov^nward road, and it is but to plunge yet deeper
into sloth. Better the cold affection of the sun, reflected from fielos of ice and
snow, or his warmth in some still wintry delL The warmth of celestial love does
not relax, but nerves and braces its enioyer. Warm your body by healthful exer-
cise, not by cowering over a stove. Warm your spirit by performing independ-
ently noble deeds, not by ignobly seeking the sympathy ofyour fellows who are no
better than yourself A man*s social and spintual discipline must answer to his
corporeal He must lean on a friend who has a hard breast, as he would lie on a
hard bed. He must drink cold water for his only beverage. So he must not hear
sweetened and colored words, but pure and refreshing truths. He must daily
bathe in truth cold as spring water, not warmed by the sympathy of friends."
** You speak of doing and being, and the vanity, real or apparent, of much doing.
The suckers — I think it is they — make nests in our river in the spring of more
than a cart-load of small stones, amid which to deposit their ova. The other day
I opened a muskrat's house. It was made of weeds, five feet broad at base,
and three feet high, and far and low within it was a little cavity, only a foot in
diameter, where the rat dwelt It mav seem trivial, this piling up of weeds, but
so the race of muskrats is preserved. We must heap up a great pile of doinc;, for
a small diameter of being. Is it not imperative on us that we do something, if we
only work in a tread-mill ? And, indeed, some sort of revolving is necessary to
produce a centre and nucleus of being. What exercise is to the body, employment
\8 to the mind and morals. Consider what an amount of drudgery must be per-
formed, — how much humdrum and prosaic labor goes to any work of the least
value. There are so many layers of mere white pure in every shell to that thin
inner one so beautifully tinted. Let not the shell-fish think to build his house of
that alone ; and pray, what are its tints to him ? Is it not his smooth, close-
fitting shirt merely, whose tints are not to him, being in the dark, but only when he
is gone or dead, and his shell is heaved up to light, a wreck upon the beach, do
they appear. With him, too, it is the song of a shirt, " Work, — work, — work I "
And the work is not merely a police in the gpross sense, but in the higher sense, a
discipline. If it is surely the means to the highest end we know, can any work be
humble or disgusting ? Will it not rather be elevating as a ladder^ the means by
which we are translated ? "
Mist. — " Low-anchored doud,
Newfoundland air.
Fountain-head and source of rivers.
' Dew-doth, dream-drapery.
And napkin spread by fays ;
Drifting meadow of the air.
Where bloom the daisied banks and violets.
And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and neron wades ;
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers, —
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men's fields.**
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THE RADICAL.
OCTOBER, 1865,
SAVING FAITH.
BT J. C. L.
Great Spirit of renewing TniA !
Come shining through our darkened eyes,
And make the tides of light roll in,
To cleanse from error and from sin :
Destroy the Refuges of Lies.
If any falsehood of the Past
Koond us has thrown its iron chain.
Bum through and melt each fettering link,
Ere slaves of Prejudice we sink :
Give us to Freedom once again.
Faith in the Present may we have!
Faith that God lives and works to-day!
Faith that ail righteousness prevails.
That Revelation never fails
In souls that work and pray.
O Future, thou art held in trust !
To build for thee a glowing way
Our hearts are pledged : no Past can bind,
No Age's Promise is behind,—
Set forthl pursue the mighty day.
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ADDRESS.*
BY R. W. EMERSON.
IN thi$ refiil|;ent summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath
o€ life. The grass grow% the buds burst, the meadow is spotted
with fire and gold in the tint of flowers. The air is full of birds, and
sweet with the breath of the pine, the balm-of-Gilead, and the new hay.
Night brings no gloom to the heart with its welcome shade. Through
the transparent darkness the stars pour their almost spiritual rays.
Man under them seems a young child, and his huge globe a toy. The
cool night bathes the world as with a river, and prepares his eyes
again for the crimson dawn. The mystery of nature was never dis-
played more happily. The com and the wine have been freely dealt
to all creatures, and the never-brokeu silence with which the old bounty
goes forward, has not yielded yet one word of explanation. One is
constrained to respect the perfection of this world, in which our senses
converse. How wide ; how rich ; what invitation from every property
it gives to every faculty of man I In its fruitful soils ; in its navigable
sea ; in its mountains of metal and stone ; in its forests of all woods ;
in its animals ; in its chemical ingredients ; in the powers and path
of light, heat, attraction, and life, it is well worth the pith and heart of
great men to subdue and enjoy it The planters, the mechanics, the
inventors, the astronomers, the builders of cities, and the captains,
history delights to honor.
But when the mind opens, and reveals the laws which traverse the
universe, and make things what they are, then shrinks the great world
at once into a mere illustration and fable of this mind. What am I ?
and What is ? asks the human spirit with a curiosity new-kindled, but
never to be quenched. Behold these out-running laws, which our im-
perfect apprehension can see tend this way and that, but not come
full circle. Behold these infinite relations, so like, so unlike ; many,
yet one. I would study, I would know^ I would admire forever. These
works of thought have been the entertainments of the human spirit in
all ages.
A more secret, sweet, and overpowering beauty appears to man
when his heart and mind open to the sentiment of virtue. Then he
is instructed in what is above him. He learns that his being is with-
out bound ; that, to the good, to the perfect, he is bom, low as he now
• Delivered before the Senior Class in Divinity Cdlege^ Cambridge, Sunday
Evening, July 15th, 1838. [Printed ia Tus Rai^cal, by ptrmission from the
Author.]
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Address. 35
lies in eril and weakness. That which he Tenerates is still his own,
though he has not realized it 3^t He ought. He knows d^ sense of
that grand word, though his analysis Dails to render account of it
When in innocency, or when by intellectual perception, he attains to
say, — ^ I love the Right ; Truth is beautifnl within and without forev*
ennore. Virtue, I am thine : save me : use me : thee will I serve, day
and night, in great, in small, that I may be not virtuous, but virtue ;'
— then is the end of the creation. answered, and God is well pleased.
The sentiment of virtue is a reverence and delight in the presence
of certain divine laws. It perceives that this homely game of life we
play, covers, imder what seem foolish details, principles that astonish*
The child amidst its baubles, is learning the action of light, motion,
gravity, muscular iofctt, \ and in the game of human life, love, fear, jus*
tice, appetite, man, and God, interact These laws refuse to be sul&»
quately stated. They will not be written out on paper, or spoken by
the tongue. They elude our persevering thought ; jtX. we read them
hourly in each other's faces, in each other's actions, in our own re*
morse. The moral traits which are all globed into every virtuous act
and thought, — in speech, we must sever, and describe or suggest by
painful enumeration of many particulars. Yet, as thb sentiment is the
essence of all religion, let me guide your eye to the precise objects of
the sentiment, by an enumeration of some of those classes of facts in
which this element is conspicuous.
The intuition of the moral sentiment is an insight of the perfection
of the laws of the soul. These laws execute themselves. They are
out of time, out of space, and not subject to circumstance. Thus ; in
the soul of man there is a justice whose retributions are instant and
entire. He who does a good deed, is instantiy ennobled. He who
does a mean deed, is by the action itself contracted. He who puts off
impurity, thereby puts on purity. If a man is at heart just, then in so
far is he God ; the safety of God, the immortality <A God, the majesty
of God do enter into that man with justice. If a num dissembl^ de-
ceive, he deceives himself and goes out of acquaintance with his own
being. A man in the view of absolute goodness, adores, witii total
humanity. Every step so downward, is a step upward. The man who
renounces himself, comes to himself.
See how this rapid intrinsic energy worketh everywhere, righting
wrongs, correcting appearances, and bringing up facts to a harmony
with thoughts. Its operation in life, though slow to the senses, is at
last» as sure as in the souL By it, a man is made the providence to
himself^ dispensing good to his goodness, and evil to his sin. Char-
acter is always known. Thefb never enrich ; alms never impoverish
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36 The Radical.
murder will speak out of stone walls. The least admixture of a lie,
— for example, the taint of vanity, any attempt to make a good im-
pression, a favorable appearance, — will instantly vitiate, the effect
But speak the truth, and all nature and all spirits help you with unex-
pected fixrtherance. Speak the truth, and all things alive or brute are
vouchers, and the very roots of the grass underground there, do seem
to stir and move to bear you witness. See again the perfection of the
Law as it api^ies itself to the affections, and becomes the law of so-
ciety. As we are, so we associate. The good, by affinity, seek the
good ; the vile, by affinity, the vile. Thus of their own volition, souls
proceed into heaven; into helL
These facts have always suggested to man the sublime creed, that
the world is not the product of manifold power, but of one will, of one
mind ; and that one mind is everyidiere active, in each ray of die star,
in eadi wavelet of the pool ; and whatever opposes that will, is every-
where balked and baffled, because things are made so, and not odier-
wise. Good is positive. Evil is merely privative, not absolute ; it is
like cold, which is the privation of heat All evil is so much death or
nonenity. Benevolence b absolute and reaL So much benevolence
as a man hath, so much life hath he. For all things proceed out of
this same spirit, which is differently named love, justice, temperance,
in its difiisrent applications, just as the ocean receives diffisrent names
on the several shores which it washes. All diings proceed out of the
same spuit, and all things conspire with it Whilst a man seeks good
ends, he is strong by the whole strength of nature. In so £u: as he
roves from these ends, he bereaves himself of power, or auxiliaries ; his
being shrinks out of all remote channels, he becomes less and less, a
mote, a point, until absolute badness is absolute death.
The perception of this law of laws awakens in the mind a sentiment
which we call the religious sentiment, and.whidi makes our higiiest
happiness. Wonderful is its power to charm and to conunand. It is
a mountain air. It is the embalmer of the wcn-ld. It is myrrh and sto-
rax, and chlorine and rosemary. It makes the sky and the hills sub-
lime, and the silent song of the stars is it By it, is the universe made
safe and habitable, not by science or power. Thought may work
cold and intransitive in things, and find no end or unity; but the
dawn of the sentiment of virtue on the heart, gives and is the assur-
ance that Law is sovereign over all natures ; and the worlds, time,
space, eternity, do seem to break out into joy.
This sentiment is divine and deifying. It is the beatitude of man«
It makes him illimitable. Throu^ it, the soul first knows itself. It
corrects the capital mistake of the in£suit man, who seeks tx> be great
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Address. 37
by Ibnowing die great, and hoped to derive advants^ies from atwther^
— by showing the fountain of all good to be in himself, and that he,
equally with every man, is an inlet into the deeps of Reason. When
he says, " I ought ; " when love warms him ; when he chooses, warned
£:om on high, the good and great deed ; then, deep melodies wander
through his soul firom Supreme Widsom. — Then he can wcn^hip^ and
be enlarged by his worship ; for he can never go behind this sen-
timent In the sublimest flights of the soul, rectitude is never sur-
mounted, love is never outgrown.
This sentiment lies at the foundation of society, and successively
creates all forms of worship. The principle of veneration never dies
out Man £adlen into superstition, into sensuality, is never quite with-
out the visions of the moral sentiment In like manner, all the ex-
pressions of this sentiment are sacred and permanent in proportion to
their purity. The expres^ns of this sentiment affect us more than all
other compositions. The sentences of the oldest time, which ejacu-
late this piety, are still fresh and fragrant This thought dwelled
always deepest in the minds of men in the devout and contemplative
East ; not alone in Palestine, where it reached its purest exfM-ession,
but in Egypt, in Persia, in India, in China. Europe has always owed
to oriental genius its divine impulses. What these holy bards said, all
sane men found agreeable and true. And the unique impression of
Jesus upon mankind, whose name is not so much written as ploughed
into the history of tlA world, is proof of the subtle virtue of this in^-
sion.
Meantime, whilst the doors of the temple stand open, night and
day, before every man, and the oracles of this truth cease never, it is
guarded by one stem condition ; this, namely ; it is an intuition. It
cannot be received at second hand. Truly speaking, it is not instruc-
tion, but provocatioi), that I can receive from another soul. What he
announces, I must find true in me, or reject ; and on his word, or as
his second, be he who he may, I can accept nothing. On the contra-
ry, the absence of this primary faith is the presence of degradation.
As is the flood so is the ebb. Let this faith depart, and the very words
it spake, and the things it made, become false and hurtful. Then falls
the Church, the state, art, letters, life. The doctrine of the divine na-
ture being fOTgotten, a sickness infects and dwarfe the constitution.
Once man was all ; now he is an appendage, a nuisance. And be-
cause the indwelling Supreme Spirit cannot wholly be got rid of, the
doctrine of it suffers this perversion, that the divine nature is attribut-
ed to one or two persons, and denied to all the rest, and denied with
finy. The doctrine of inspiration is lost ; the base doctrine of the
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38 The Radical.
majority of Yoices, usurps the place of the doctrine of the soul. Mir*
acles, prophecy^ poetry ; the ideal life, the holy life, exist as ancient
history merely ; they are not in the belief, nor in the aspiration of so-
ciety ; but, when suggested, seem ridiculous. Life is comic or pitiful,
as soon as the hi^ ends of being fade out of sight, and man becomes
near-si|^ted, and can only attend to what addresses the senses.
These general views, which, whilst they are general, none wOl con-
test, find abundant illustration in the history of religion, and e^>ecial-
ly in the history of the Christian church. In that, all of us have had
our birth and nurture. The truth contained in that, you, n:y young
friends, are now setting forth to teach. As die Cultus, or established
worship of the dviliz^ world, it has great historical interest for us.
Of its blessed words, which have been the consolation of humanity,
you need not that I should speak. I shall endeavor to discharge my
duty to you, on this occasion, by pointing out two errors in its admin*
istration, which daily appear more gross from the point of view we
have just now takeiL
Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with
open eye the mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, rav-
ished with its beauty, he lived in it, and had his being there. Alone
in all history, he estimated the greatness of man. One man was true
to what is in you and me. He saw that God incarnates himself in
man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his world.
He said, in this jubilee of sublime emotion, ^I Ibi divine. Through
me, God acts ; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me ;
or, see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.' But what a
distortion did his doctrine and memory suffer in the same, in the
next, and the following ages 1 There is no doctrine of the Reason
which will bear to be taught by the Understanding. The understand-
ing caught this high chant from the poet's lips, sgid said, in the next
age, ' This was Jehovah come down out of heaven. I will kill you, if
you say he was a man.' The idioms of his language, and the figures
of his rhetoric, have usurped the place of his truth ; and churches are
not built on his principles, but cm his tropes. Christianity became a
Mythus, as the poetic teaching of Greece and of Egypt, before. He
spoke of miracles ; for he felt that man's life was a miracle, and all
that man doth, and he knew that this daily miracle shines, as the
character ascends. But the word Miracle, as pronounced by Chris-
tian churches, gives a false impression ; it is Monster. It is not one
with the blowing clover and the falling rain.
He felt respect for Moses and the prophets ; but no unfit tenderness
Bt postponing their initial revelations^ to the hour and the man that
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Addfes8« 3^
now is ; td tfacf etntml rerdatiott in the heart Tims was he a true
man. Havii^ seen that the law in us is commanding, he would not
suffer it to be commanded. Boldly, with hand, and heart, and life, he
declared it was God. Thus is he, as I think^ the only soul in history
who has appreciated the worth of man.
T. In this point of view we become sensible of the first defect of
historical Christianity. Historical Christianity has fallen into the er-
ror that Corrupts all attempts to communicate religion. As it appears
to us^ and as it has zppesied for ages, it is not the doctrine of the
sooly but an exaggeration of the personal, the positive, the ritual. It
has dwdt, it dwells, wkh noxious exaggeration about the perstm of
Jesus. The scud knows no persons. It invites every man to expand
to the full circle of the universe^ and will have no preferences but
tiiose of spontaneous love. But by this eastern monarchy of a Chris-
tumity, which indolence and fear have built, the friend of man is made
the injurer of man. The manner in whkh his name is surrounded
widi expressions, which were once sallies cA admiration and love, but
are now petrified into official tkles, kills aU generous sympathy and
liking. All who hear me, feel, that the language that describes Christ
to Europe and America, is not the style of friendship and enthusiasm
to a good and noble heart, but is aj^opriated and formal, — paints a
demigod as the Orientals or the Greeks would describe Osiris or
Apollo. Accept the injurious impositions of our early catachetical
instruction, and even honesty and seliPdenial were but splendid sins,
if they did not wear die Christian name. One would rather be
'A pagan, sucklad ia a cn«d outworn,'
than to be defrauded of his manly right in coming into nature, and
finding not names and places, not land and professions, but even vir-
tue and truth foreclosed and monopolized. You shall not be a man
even. You shall not own the world ; you shall not dare, and live after
tlie infinite Law that is in you, and in company with the infinite Beauty
which heaven and earth reflect to you in all lovely forms ; but you
must subordinate your nature to Christ's nature ; you must accept our
interpretations ; and take his portrait as the vulgar draw it.
That is always best which gives me to myself. The sublime is ex-
cited in me by the great stoical doctrine, Obey thyself. That which
shows God in me, fortifies me. That which shows God out of me,
makes me a wart and a wen. There is no longer a necessary reason
for my being. Already the long shadows of untimely oblivion creep
over me,, and I shall decease forever.
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40 The Radical.
The divine bards are the friends of my virtue, of my intellect, of my
strength. They admonish me, that the gleams which flash across my
mind, are not mine, but God's ; that they had the like, and were not
disobedient to the heavenly vbion. So I love theuL Noble provoca-
tions go out from them, inviting me to resist evil ; to subdue the world ;
and to Be. And thus by his holy thoughts, Jesus serves us, and thus
only. To aim to convert a man by miracles, is a profanation of the
soul. A true conversion, a true Christ, is now, as always, to be made,
by the reception of beautifril sentiments. It is true that a great and
rich soul like his, falling among the simple, does so prqx>nderate, that,
as his did, it names the world. The world seems to them to exist for
him, and they have not yet drunk so deeply of his sense, as to see
that only by coming again to themselves, or to God in themselves,
can they grow forevermore. It is a low ben^t to give m^ something ;
it is a high benefit to enable me to do somewhat of myself. The time
is coming when all men will see, that the gift of God to the soul is
not a vaunting, overpowering, excluding sanctity, but a sweet, natural
goodness, a goodness like thine and mine, and that so invites diine
and mine to be and to grow.
The injustice of the vulgar tone of preaching is not less flagrant to
Jesus, than to the souls which it profanes. The preachers do not see
that they make his gospel not ^ad, and shear him of the locks of
beauty and the attributes of heaven. When I see a majestic Epami-
nondas, or Washington ; when I see among my contemporaries, a true
orator, an upright judge, a dear fnend ; when I vibrate to the melody
and fancy of a poem ; I see beauty that is to be desired. And so
lovely, and with yet more entire consent of my human being, sounds
in my ear the severe music of the bards that have sung of the true
God in all ages. Now do not degrade the life and dialogues of Christ
out of the circle of this charm, by insulation and peculiarity. Let
them lie as they befel, alive and warm, part of human life, and of the
landscape, and of the cheerful day.
2, The second defect of the traditionaiy and limited way of using
the mind of Christ is a consequence of the first ; this, namely ; that
the Moral Nature, that Law of laws, whose revelations introduce great-
ness,— yea, God himself, into the open soul, b not explored as the
fountain of the established teaching in society. Men have come to
speak of the revelation as somewhat long ago given and done, as if
God were dead. The injury to faith throttles the preacher ; and the
goodliest of institutions becomes an uncertain and inarticulate voice.
It is veiy certsdn that it is the effect of conversation with the beauty
of the soul, to b^iet a desire and need to impart to others the same
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Address. 41
knowledge and love. If utterance is denied, the thought lies like a
burden on the man. Always the seer is a sayer. Somehow his dream
is told : somehow he publishes it widi solemn joy : sometimes with
pencil on canvas ; sometimes with chisel on stone ; sometimes in tow-
ers and aisles of granite, his souPs worship is builded ; sometimes in
antbems of indefinite music ; but clearest and most permanent, in
words.
The man enamored of this excellency, becomes its priest or poet.
The office is coeval with the world. But observe the condition, the
^iritual limitation of the office. The spirit only can teach. Not
any profane man, not any sensual, not any liar, not any slave can
teach, but only he can give, who has ; he only can create, who is. The
man on whom the soul descends, through whom the soul speaks, alone
can teach. Courage, piety, love, wisdom, can teach ; and every man
can open his door to these angels, and they shall bring him the gift of
tongues. But the man who aims to speak as books enable, as synods
use, as the fashion guides, and as interest commands, babbles. Let
him hush.
To this holy office, you propose to devote yourselves. ' I wish you
may feel your call in throbs of desire and hope. The office is the first
in the world. It is of that reality, that it cannot suffer the deduction
of any falsehood. And it is my duty to say to you, that the need was
never greater of new revelation than now. From the views I have
already expressed, you will infer the sad conviction, which I share, I
believe, with numbers, of the universal decay and now almost death
of faith m society. The soul is not preached. The Church seems to
totter to its fall, almost all life extinct. On this occasion, any com-
plaisance would be criminal, which told you, whose hope and commis-
sion it is to preach the faith of Christ, that the faith of Christ is
preached.
It is time that this ill-suppressed murmur of all thoughtful men
against the famine of our churches ; this moaning of the heart because
it is bereaved of the consolation, the hope, the grandeur, that come
alone out of the culture of the moral nature ; should be heard through
the sleep of indolence, and over the din of routine. This great and
perpetual office of the preacher is not discharged. Preaching is the
expression of the moral sentiment in application to the duties of life.
In how many churches, by how many prophets, tell me, is man made
sensible that he is an infinite Soul ; that the earth and heavens are
passing into his mind ; that he is drinking forever the soul of God ?
Where now sounds the persuasion, that by its very melody impara-
dises my heart, and so affirms its own origin in heaven ? ^Vhere shall
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42 The Radical.
I hear words such as in elder ages drew men to leave all and follow,
— father and mother, house and land, wife and child ? Where shall I
hear these august laws of moral being so pronounced, as to fill my ear,
and I feel ennobled by the offer of my uttermost action and passion ?
The test of the true faith, certainly, should be its power to charm and
command the soul, as the laws of nature control the activity of
the hands, — so commanding that we find pleasure and honor in
obeying. The faith should blend with the light of rising and of set-
ting Sims, with the flying cloud, the singing bird, and the breath of
flowers. But now the priest's Sabbath has lost the splendor of na-
ture ; it is unlovely ; we are glad when it is done ; we can make, we
do make, even sitting in our pews, a far better, holier, sweeter, for
ourselves.
Whenever the pulpit is usurped by a formalist, then is the worship-
per defrauded and disconsolate. We shrink as soon as the prayers
begin, which do not uplift, but smite and offend us. We are fain to
wrap our cloaks about us, and secure, as best we can, a solitude that
hears not I once heard a preacher who sorely tempted me to say, I
would go to church no more. . Men go, thought I, where they are
wont to go, else had no soul entered the temple in the afternoon. A
snow-storm was falling around us. The snow-storm was real ; the
preacher merely spectral ; and the eye felt the sad contrast in looking
at him, and then out of the window behind him, into the beautiful
meteor of the snow. He had lived in vain. He had no one word inti-
mating that he had laughed or wept, was married or in love, had been
commended, or cheated, or chagrined. If he had ever lived and
acted, we were none the wiser for it The capital secret of his profes-
sion, namely, to convert life into truth, he had not learned. Not one
fact in all his experience, had he yet imported into his doctrine. This
man had ploughed, and planted, and talked, and bought, and sold ;
he had read books ; he had eaten and drunken ; his head aches ; his
heart throbs ; he smiles and suffers ; yet was there not a surmise, a
hint, in all the discourse, that he had ever lived at all. Not a line
did he draw out of real history. The true preacher can be known by
this, that he deals out to the people his life, — life passed through the
fire of thought But of the bad preacher, it could not be told from
his sermon, what age of the world he fell in ; whether he had a father
or a child ; whether he was a freeholder or a pauper ; whether he was
a citizen or a countryman ; or any other fact of his biography. It
seemed strange that the people should come to church. It seemed
as if their houses were very unentertaining, that they should prefer
this thoughtless clamor. It shows that there is a commanding attrac-
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Address. 43
tion in the moral sentiment, that can lend a faint tint of light to dul-
ness and ignorance, coming in its name and place. The good hearer
is sure he has been touched sometimes ; is sure there is somewhat to
be reached, and some word that can reach it When he listens to
these vain words, he comforts himself by their relation to his remem-
brance of better hours, and so they clatter and echo unchallenged.
I am not ignorant that when we preach imworthily, it is not always
quite in vain. There is a good ear, in some men, that draws supplies
to virtue out of very indifferent nutriment. There is poetic truth con-
cealed in all the common-places of prayer and of sermons, and though
foolishly spoken, they may be wisely heard ; for, each is some select
expression that broke out in a moment of piety from some stricken or
jubilant soul, and its excellency made it remembered. The prayers
and even the dogmas of our church, are like the zodiac of Denderah,
and the astronomical monuments of the Hindoos, wholly insulated from
anything now extant in the life and business of the people. They
mark the height to which the waters once rose. But this docility is
a check upon the mischief from the good and devout In a large
portion of the community, the religious service gives rise to quite
other thoughts and emotions. We need not chide the negligent ser-
vant We are struck with pity, rather, at the swift retribution of his
sloth. Alas for the unhappy man that is called to stand in the pulpit,
and not give bread of life. Everything that befalls, accuses him.
Would he ask contributions for the missions, foreign or domestic ?
Instantiy his face is suffused with shame, to propose to his parish,
that they should send money a hundred or a thousand miles, to fur-
nish such poor fare as they have at home, and would do well to go
the hundred or the thousand miles to escape. Would he urge people
to a godly way of living ; — and can he ask a fellow-creature to come
to Sabbath meetings, when he and they all know what is the poor
uttermost they can hope for therein ? Will he invite them privately to
the Lord's Supper? He dares not If no heart warm this rite, the
hollow, dry, creaking formality is too plain, than that he can face a
man of wit and energy, and put the invitation without terror. In the
street, what has he to say to the bold village blasphemer ? The vil-
lage blasphemer sees fear in the face, form, and gait of the minister.
Let me not taint the sincerity of this plea by any oversight of the
claims of good men. I know and honor the purity and strict con-
science of niunbers of the clergy. What life the public worship re-
tains, it owes to the scattered company of pious men, who minister
here and there in the churches, and who, sometimes accepting with
too great tenderness the tenet of the elders, have not accepted from
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44 'I'he Radical.
others, but from their own heart, the genuine impulses of virtue, and
so still command our love and awe, to the sanctity of character.
Moreover, the exceptions are not so much to be found in a few emi-
nent preachers, as in the better hours, the truer inspirations of all, —
nay, in the sincere moments of every man. But with whatever excep-
tion, it is still true, that tradition characterizes the preaching of this
coimtry^ that it comes out of the memory, and not out of the soul ;
that it aims at what is usual, and not at what is necessary and eternal ;
that thus, historical Christianity destroys the power of preaching, by
withdrawing it from the exploration of the moral nature of man,
where the sublime is, where are the resources of astonishment and
power. AVhat a cruel injustice it is to that Law, the joy of the whole
earth, which alone can make thought dear and rich ; that Law whose
fatal sureness the astronomical orbits poorly emulate, that it is traves-
tied and depredated, that it is behooted and behowled, and not a
trait, not a word of it articulated. The pulpit in losing sight of this
Law, loses its reason, and gropes after it knows not what And for
want of this culture, the soul of the community is sick and faithless.
It wants nothing so much as a stem, high, stoical. Christian discipline,
to make it know itself and the divinity that speaks through it Now
man is ashamed of himself ; he skulks and sneaks through the world,
to be tolerated, to be pitied, and scarcely in a thousand years does
any man dare to be wise and good, and so draw after him the tears
and blessings of his kind.
Certainly there have been periods when, from the inactivity of the
intellect on certain truths, a greater faith was possible in names
and persons. The Puritans in England and America, found in the
Christ of the Catholic Church, and in the dogmas inherited from
Rome, scope for their austere piety, and their longings for civil free-
dom. But their creed is passing away, and none arises in its room.
I think no man can go with his thoughts about him, into one of our
churches, without feeling, that what hold the public worship had on
men is gone, or going. It has lost its grasp on the affection of die
good, and the fear of the bad. In the country, neighborhoods, half
parishes are ^gning off^ to use the local term. It is already begin-
ning to indicate character and religion to withdraw from the religious
meetings. I have heard a devout person, who prized the Sabbath,
say in bitterness of heart, " On Sundays, it seems wicked to go to
church." And the motive, that holds the best there, is now only a
hope and a waiting. What was once a mere circumstance, that the
best and the worst men in the parish, the poor and the rich, the
learned and the ignorant, young and old, should meet one day as fel-
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Address. 45
lows in one house, in sign of an equal right in the soul, has come to
be a paramount motive for going thither.
My friends, in these two errors, I think, I find the causes of a de-
caying .church and a wasting unbelief. And what greater calamity
can fall upon a nation, than the loss of worship ? Then all things go
to decay. Genius leaves the temple, to haunt the senate, or the
market Literature becomes frivolous. Science is cold. The eye of
youth is not lighted by the hope of other worlds, and age is without
honor. Society lives to trifles, and when men die, we do not mention
them.
And now, my brothers, you will ask. What in these desponding
days can be done by us ? The remedy is already declared in the
ground of our complaint of the Church. We have contrasted the
Church with the Soul. In the soul, then, let the redemption be
sought Wherever a man comes, there comes revolution. The old
is for slaves. When a man comes, all books are legible, all things
transparent, all religions are forms. He is religious. Man is the
wonderworker. He is seen amid miracles. All men bless and curse.
He saith yea and nay, only. The stationariness of religion ; the
assumption that the age of inspiration is past, that the Bible is closed ;
the fear of degrading the character of Jesus by representing him as a
man ; indicate with sufficient clearness the falsehood of our theology.
It is the office of a true teacher to show us that God is, not was ; that
He speaketh, not spake. The true Christianity, — a faith like Christ^s
in the infinitude of man, — is lost None believeth in the soul of
man, but only in some man or person old and departed. Ah me 1 no
man goeth alone. All men go in flocks to this saint or that poet,
avoiding the God who seeth in secret They cannot see in secret ;
they love to be blind ih public. They think society wiser than their
soul, and know not that one soul, and their soul, is wiser than the
whole world. See how nations and races flit by on the sea of time,
and leave no ripple to tell where they floated or sunk, and one good
soul shall make the name of Moses, or of Zeno, or of Zoroaster, rever-
end forever. None assayeth the stem ambition to be the Self of the
nation, and of natiu"e, but each would be an easy secondary to some
Christian scheme, or sectarian connection, or some eminent man. Once
leave your own knowledge of God, your own sentiment, and take sec-
ondary knowledge, as St. PauPs, or George Fox's, or Swedenborg's,
and you get wide from God with every year this secondary form lasts,
and if, as now, for centuries, — the chasm yawns to that breath, that
men can scarcely be convinced there is in them anything divine.
Let me admonish you, first of all, to go alone ; to refiise the good
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46 The Radical.
models, even those which are sacred in the imagination of men, and
dare to love God without mediator or veil. Friends enough you shall
find who will hold up to your emulation Wesleys and Oberlins, Saints
and Prophets. Thank God for these good men, but say, * I also am
a man.' Imitation cannot go above its model. The imitator dooms
himself to hopeless mediocrity. The inventor did it because it was
natural to him, and so in him it has a charm. In the imitator, some-
thing else is natural, and he bereaves himself of his own beauty, to
come short of another man's.
Yourself a newborn bard of the Holy Ghost, — cast behind you all
conformity, and acquaint men at first hand with Deity. Look to it
first and only, that fashion, custom, authority, pleasure, and money,
are nothing to you, — are not bandages over your eyes, that you can-
not see, — but live with the privilege of the immeasurable mind. Not
too anxious to visit periodically all families and each family in your
parish connection, — ■ when you meet one of these men or women, be
to them a divine man ; be to them thought and virtue ; let their timid
aspirations find in you a friend ; let their trampled instincts be genial-
ly tempted out in your atmosphere ; let their doubts know that you
have doubted, and their wonder feel that you have wondered. By
trusting your own heart, you shall gain more confidence in other men.
For all our penny-wisdom, for all our soul-destroying slavery to habit,
it is not to be doubted, that all men have sublime thoughts ; that all
men value the few real hours of life ; they love to be heard ; they
love to be caught up into the vision of principles. We mark with
light in the memory the few interviews we have had, in the dreary
years of routine and of sin, with souls that made our souls wiser ; that
spoke what we thought ; that told us what we knew ; that gave us
leave to be what we inly were. Discharge to men the priestly office,
and, present or absent, you shall be followed with their love as by an
angel.
And, to this end, let us not aim at common degrees of merit. Can
we not leave, to such as love it, the virtue that glitters for the commen-
dation of society, and ourselves pierce the deep solitudes of absolute
ability and worth ? We easily come up to the standard of goodness in
society. Society's praise can be cheaply secured, and almost all men
are content with those easy merits ; but the instant effect of convers-
ing with God, will be, to put them away. There are persons who
are not actors, not speakers, but influences ; persons too great for
fame, for display ; who disdain eloquence ; to whom all we call art
and artist, seems too nearly allied to show and by-ends, to the exag-
geration of the finite and selfish, and loss of the universal. The ora-
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Address. 47
tors, the poets, the commanders encroach on us only as fab women
do, by our allowance and homage. Slight them by preoccupation of
mind, slight them, as you can well afford to do, by high and universal
aims, and they instandy feel that you have right, and that it is in
lower places that they must shine. They also feel your right ; for
they with you are open to the influx of the all-knowing Spirit, which
annihilates before its broad noon the little shades and gradations of
intelligence in the compositions we call wiser and wisest.
In such high communion, let us study the grand strokes of recti-
tude : a bold benevolence, an independence of friends, so that not the
unjust wishes of those who love us, shall impair our freedom, but we
shall resist for truth's sake the freest flow of kindness, and appeal to
sympathies far in advance ; and, — what is the highest form in which
we know this beautiful element, — a certain solidity of merit, that has
nothing to do with opinion, and which is so essentially and manifestly
virtue, that it is taken for granted, that the right, the brave, the gener-
ous step will be taken by it, and nobody thinks of commending it.
You would compliment a coxcomb doing a good act, but you would
not praise an angel. The silence that accepts merit as the most nat-
ural thing in the world, is the highest applause. Such souls, when they
appear, are the Imperial Guard of Virtue, the perpetual reserve, the
dictators of fortune. One needs not praise their courage, — they are
the heart and soul of nature. O my friends, there are resources in
us on which we have not drawn. There are men who rise refreshed
on hearing a threat ; men to whom a crisis which intimidates and
paralizes the majority, — demanding not the faculties of pru-
dence and thrift, but comprehension, immovableness, the readiness
of sacrifice, — comes graceful and beloved as a bride. Napoleon
said to Massena, that he was not himself until the battle began
to go against him; then, when the dead began to fall in ranks
around him, awoke his powers of combination, and he put on terror
and victory as a robe. So it is in rugged crises, in unweariable endur-
ance, and in aims which put sympathy out of question, that the
angel is shown. But these are heights that we can scarce remember
and look up to, without contrition and shame. Let us thank God
that such things exist
And now let us do what we can to rekindle the smouldering, nigh
quenched fire on the altar. The evils of the church that now is are
manifest The question returns. What shall we do ? I confess, all
attempts to project and establish a Cultus with new rites and forms,
seem to me vain. Faith makes us, and not we it, and faith makes its
own forms. All attempts to contrive a system are as cold as the new
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48 The Radical.
worship introduced by the French to the goddess of Reason, — to-
day, pasteboard and fillagree, and ending to-morrow in madness and
murder. Rather let the breath of new life be breathed by you through
the forms already existing. For, if once you are alive, you shall find
they shall become plastic and new. The remedy to their deformity
is, first, soul, and second, soul, and evermore, soul. A whole pope-
dom of forms, one pulsation of virtue can uplift and vivify. Two
inestimable advantages Christianity has given us ; first ; the Sabbath,
the jubilee of the whole world ; whose light dawns welcome alike
into the closet of the philosopher, into the garret of toil, and into
prison-cells, and everywhere suggests, even to the vile, the dignity of
spiritual being. Let us stand forevermore, a temple, which new love,
new faith, new sight, shall restore to more than its first splendor to
mankind. And secondly, the institution of preaching, — the speech
of man to men, — essentially the most flexible of all organs, of all
forms. What hinders that now, everywhere, in pulpits, in lecture-
rooms, in houses, in fields, wherever the invitation of men or your
own occasions lead you, you speak the very truth, as your life and
conscience teach it, and cheer the waiting, fainting hearts of men with
new hope and new revelation ?
.1 look for the hour when that supreme Beauty, which ravished the
souls of those eastern men, and chiefly of those Hebrews, and through
their lips spoke oracles to all time, shall speak in the West also.
The Hebrew and Greek Scriptures contain immortal sentences, that
have been bread of life to millions. But they have no epical integrity ;
are fragmentary ; are not shown in their order to the intellect. I look
for the new Teacher, that shall follow so far those shining laws, that
he shall see them come full circle ; shall see their rounding com-
plete grace ; shall see the world to be the mirror of the soul ; shall
see the identity of the law of gravitation with purity of heart ; and
shall show that the Ought, that Duty, is one thing with Science, with
Beauty, and with Joy.
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BOND OR FREE.*
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
"So SPEAK YE AND SO DO, AS THEY THAT SHALL BE JUDGED BY THE LaW
OF Liberty."
THE great religious question of the ages is that between Outward
Authority and Inward Freedom. May we trust the free exercise
of our natural faculties to give us the knowledge of Duty and
of God, or does such freedom come to nothing but delusion, and must
we have supernatural teachers ; creeds sent down from above ready made
for our acceptance, not our investigation ; sects, churches and books
clothed with an authority that makes our liberty needless as well as wrong ?
What is Rehgion ? Is it blind belief in a Power that comes in between our
human life and God's divine, to imite what have no natural connection with
each other, or is it the intimacy of the soul with its Maker and its own
inmost Life ?
These are opposite principles which I indicate. They exclude each other.
If one is true, the other is false. If our souls may be trusted in the search
for truth, then we do not need and cannot have authoritative teiachers, creeds,
churches, books. If they may not be trusted, then we do need these. It is
a question as to the structure of human nature itself. Are we so made that
we must take religious truth from infaUible teachers, or are we so made that,
whatever we may think, no such infallible teachers are possible for ^is, and
we must and do depend upon individual reason and conscience, and attain
positive certainty just in proportion as we make these mature and free ?
The two principles exclude one another. If we are made for the one, then
the other must disprove itself^ and perish utterly. If that of Outward
Authority prevail, all moral and intellectual growth is at an end, and the fac-
ulties will stiffen in death : for a final authoritative creed must at last be
established, not to be changed by human reason, nor improved by human
sympathies. If the principle of Inward Freedom prevail, the Religious
Nature will affirm the access of every seeking soul to God, set aside the
very idea of a supernatural Lord and Master, and refuse all pledges which
compromise progress, and all associated action which cramps individual
freedom.
History is the field on which these principles contend. Human Nature
is to decide which is in accordance with its laws. Before the answer could
be given, it was necessary that society should learn its inmost needs, that
man should gradually grow to self-comprehension. In past ages the prin-
ciple of Outward Authority has been dominant. It has been represented in
many forms, through many religions, each having its own creeds, churches,
Christs. But the advancing experience of mankind has brought fresh sense
of liberty and inspiration. The maturity of the spirit will not be fed and
^ A Discourse preached May 14th, 1865, at the Free Church in Lynn, Mass.
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50 The Radical.
clothed like its childhood, nor dwell in its early illusions. It is the work of
this age to test utterly the principle of Inward Freedom.
Eighteen Christian centuries have settled conclusively, that the earlier
principle is a failure. It has run through all its necessary stages. It has
revealed its inevitable tendencies and stands convicted by its results. It
began under the best auspices possible for such a principle. It began its
decisive expression in the Proem to the Gospel of John, elevating to super-
natural and even divine sovereignty over the human Mind, as the Only-
begotten Son and Incarnate Word of God, the purest Saint in history, the
Man who best of all men that ever lived deserved to hold such authority,
were it right that any should hold it The Catholic Church is its history.
It ends in the papal Encyclic Letter of December 1864, denouncing every
form of liberty and every aspiration of civilized beings, in the name of
Christ : — the Papal Encyclic, the laughing stock of Christendom.
And Christendom may well laugh. But the Papacy is perfectly consis-
tent with the principle of Outward Authority. It is Protestant Christendom
only that is inconsistent with its own premises.
This principle requires the organization of the whole race under one
official Head, one authoritative Organ of Truth and Life. This necessity
was at once recognized. Jesus of Nazareth, before his name had penetrated
beyond a few cities of the Roman Empire, before he was regarded by Ro-
man society as more than the leader of a Jewish fection, was declared by
his followers the sole appointed Redeemer of Mankind, the official Repre-
sentative and express Image of God on Earth. Through Him, as the
Christ,' prayers must be oflfered, from him doctrine descend, by him truth
be certified, on him all religious union be based.* The Nicene creed, in
perfect consistency with this, declared him consubstantial with the Father,
and denounced the Arians, who believed him to be a created being. It took
only three hundred years for the principle of Outward Authority to reach
its doctrinal perfection.
The practical organization of the Church on the same basis was a slower
work, but proceeded steadily forward.
Here too, the whole World must be consolidated under One Head, repre-
sentative of the God-Man. This is perfectly consistent and necessary, as
growing out of the very idea of an official Christ
The overseers of the earliest Christian Churches, called bishops, were
appointed by the apostles, as representatives of their Head. Though this
leaven of authority left them for a while equal, and allowed the voice of the
people to be heard in the selection of their successors, it soon availed itself
of the power of organization, and bound all the churches of a single city or
a single province together, under the control of a single Bishop. Of these
two classes of Bishops, in due time, the provincial became subordinate to
the metropolitan. These last were originally of equal authority, each being
entitled pontifex and pope. But they gradually yielded to that necessity of
* In the 1st Epistle to Timothy, ii : 6 ; it is expressly defined, " There is One
God, and one Mediator between God and Man, the Man Christ Jesus."
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Bond or Free. 51
a single Head from which they originated, and did homage to the Pontiff of
Rome. The principle of Outward Authority required that he also, from
being the chosen leader of the people, the creature of the combined will of
the people, the clergy and the Emperor, should overbear all these divided
Powers and become that absolute Ecclesiastical Sovereign who alone could
represent the monarchical right of the Christ Although the territorial pos-
sessions of the Pope were limited, he consistently claimed supreme direction
of the consciences of princes in all temporal affairs. He became what the
theory justified, the vicar of the official Head of Mankind, of the sole Media-
tor between God and Man.
Yet to effect thik required the steady consolidating work of more than a
thousand years. "It was seven hundred years before the Papacy reached
temporal power : seven hundred more before it secured the guarantees of
this." See how persistent was the eflfort of this principle of Outward
Authority ; how it put forth all its resources in human nature ; yet how
hard for it to win the mastery of mankind ! Four hundred years it has
stood in its complete form. And every successive year it has grown weaker
in substance. The day that saw the Churches organized thoroughly on this
basis, saw it begin to dissolve. Catholic Supremacy and Protestant Schism
entered the world at one and the same time.
See what violence the Papacy found it necessary to do to Human Nature.
Long before, had it broken down the liberties of the Roman people. In the
twelfth century, it burned Arnold of Brescia, to abolish in him the idea of
a republic of universal brotherhood. In Galileo it rejected Science ; in
Giordano Bruno, Philosophy ; in Savonarola, Morality. In Italy it trampled
out Nationality, and made Patriotism everywhere its foe. In Jesuitism and
the Inquisition it allied itself with Hate and Falsehood, whose sole function
is to disorganize society. It denied every revelation as it came. It set itself
against every movement of the Spirit, despised every prophecy of Science
and of Love. How should it, as Outward Authority, do otherwise ? Its
business was to crystallize, not to vitalize. Its savor was of death. Its
march was to suicide.
And so at last comes Pio Nono, the final reductio adabsurdum of the
whole principle. As if to make its fatuity the more startling by a downfiedl
from unimagined heights, he begins with the effort to reconcile it with pro-
gress, granting liberty of speech, allowing political newspapers and a
National Guard, diffusing education, favoring scientific sodeties, subscrib-
ing a comparatively liberal Constitution : — then recoils from the overthrow
which these concessions threaten to the authority by which he stands — and
ends with the Encyclic anathema against every form of free thought and
free institution which ever was or ever can be devised by man. This
poor turncoat is the latest form of an Infallible Guide to Human Reason.
This ruler, fleeing from his throne at the rising of liberty in his own domin-
ions, returning with French bayonets to murder a republic, and opening his
new sway with inquisitorial courts and tyrannical penalties, is the represen-
tative of that absolute authority, claimed to have been vested in Jesus, the
Martyr of Liberty and Love ! However vested^ to this it must come.
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52 The Radical.
In this Encyclic Letter tiie principle of Outward Authority reaches its
perfection and its close.
To all patriarchs and bishops it announces that the modem principle of
' Naturalism^ which separates Church fh)m State, freeing the latter from
control by the former, — is " impious and absurd, and makes no distinction
between heresy and religion : " that " to call liberty of conscience and wor-
ship the right of every man is hurtful to the safety of the Catholic Church : "
that our excellent predecessor, Gregory XVI, termed it delirium^'' — and
that " it is to preach the liberty of perdition, since if there is freedom of dis-
cussion, there will not be wanting men who will struggle against the
Truth." It complains that the doctrines of the Roman pontiffs are not
allowed to bind the conscience, unless promulgated by the civil power, and
that the Church is forbidden to punish violations of sacred laws with civil
penalties. It proceeds to proscribe eighty errors of our time, comprehend-
ing in the common curse every phase which freedom of thought has
assumed ; — Atheism, Pantheism, Materialism, Rationalism, Protestant-
ism alike, Indifferentism, liberalism, toleration are equally bad. It is a grie-
vous error to hold that men should be " free to embrace the religion they
may believe true," that " men of every religion may be saved " — and that
" the salvation of non-catholics may be hoped for ^^ It is criminal to
believe that Catholic countries should grant freedom of worship to immi-
grants, or that the Pope ought to reconcile himself with progress and civili-
zation." And the Holy Father, by virtue of plenary power derived to him
from Jesus Christ, commands all Catholics '' to hold such opinions as pro-
scribed and condemned."
This is not to break with civilization. It is of course to bury the prin-
ciple of Outward Authority under civilization in eternal death. This is
properly the end of it This is its suicide.
Every European nation except Austria, receives the edict with contempt
Even Spain repudiates it Archbishop McCloskey calls American Catho-
lics to admire it — being permitted to do so only through the very toleration
it condemns ! The spectacle of two monstrous Falsehoods perishing by their
own act, and in their very lairs, is before us. Social Slavery is slain at Rich-
mond. Ecclesiastical Slavery at Rome. The destruction of both is absolute,
for it is logical It is foreordained death. They perish through the consis-
tent evolution of their principle to its perfect form.
The Encyclic is not a whit more absurd and impracticable than it is
faithful to the principle of Outward Authority. It was contained, predicted,
necessitated, in the assumption of the Gospel of John that there is or
can be one absolute Incarnate Word, in whose person is concentrated
all Truth, through whom doctrine must be certified, and on whom re-
ligious union must be based. It matters not how false this was to the true
purpose of Jesus. It matters not how pure, how loving, how democratic,
how unwilling to be idolized or divinized he may have been. The principle
was equally fatal. The moment his followers, misconceiving the unselfish
soul that would fain have taught men freedom, turned him in imagination
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into an official personage, " the Christ," the sole representative of Divine
Infallibility on earth, it became a necessity that he should be a substitute
for the perils of human fallibility. There was His W^d^ which, being
official, must be absolute in its authority and not to be questioned nor tested
on pain of divine displeasure. If he was this official Christ, it is perfectly
true that we have no right so to inquire or test He became the authorized
subverter of human progress, of inward freedom. And all independent
exercise of the intellectual £eiculties in matters of religion is a revolt against
his jurisdiction. Why was such official Mediator sent, if the reason and
conscience could be trusted ? The principle has but run its natural course.
The Encyclic of Pio Nono is the sign that the doctrine of a supernatural
Christ is essentially at war with the civilization of the Age.
Look at the blossoms bursting from every living bough this radiant spring
day, and then at the hard compact rock that never opens to the light
Every atom in the tree is alike living and free, every atom of the rock
is compressed and dead. Outward Authority consolidates. Its organiza*
tions compress mankind with dead mechanical force. Inward Freedom
separates the individual souls, as vital centres of growth, and capacities of
inspiration. It is like the penetrative heat which disintegrates the solid
granite, and frees the atoms again into living constituents of fertility. It is
like the current which stirs the dead lake, and heaves it into separate waves
and interfering circles, turning stagnation into healthful movement It
allows organization only as a free combination of forces which retain their
natural energies unimpaired. It connects the individual with society not as
the piston is part of the machine, but as the lark is part of the morning ; not as
the atom is part of the crystal, but as the seed is part of the perfect flower.
It is native and structural in us, and its day dawns with the advent of our
spiritual maturity.
Protestantism was Inward Freedom, not indeed in the true principle, but
in the germ thereofl It was the law of disintegration, working within the
crystallizations of Outward Authority as soon as they were formed. Its
history has been the multiplication of sects. Its lesson has been the vanity
of attempting to organize upon a doctrinal basis. It has climg to the old
dogma of an official Christ, and Infallible Head of the Church and of the
Race, and yet incessantly denies this, by progress, by schism, by new inter-
pretations, unauthorized but by the very freedom which it forbids. Nearer
and nearer it approaches individualism, and there were never so many sects
in Christendom as now. It has unconsciously deserted the old principle,
yet refuses to accept the new, which is af once impelling and dissolving it.
To insult and suppress that Human Nature^ which is forever against Sla-
very, is a task imposed on Protestants also. In the very same breath in
which they claim liberty of thought and conscience, they denounce the
Nature in which these inhere as radically impotent, depraved and doomed.
They curse the very organs they live by. It is the necessity of Outward
Audiority to act thus ; in some form to do dishonor to the SouL
But Protestantism is not suffered to defeat the Purpose that created it
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54 The Radical.
Science is a second impulse of Inward Freedom. It has struck at the infal-
libility of the historical Christ and written Word. It has exalted the ever-
present laws of Nature, and set aside the supematuralism which was the
strongest argument for an official Head of the Race. It has equalized men
before a common sovereignty in a Divine Order, and so opened the way
for them to comprehend the fidl rights and dignities of the individual con-
science. It has directed the religious sentiment to the present instead of
the past, to living energies, to the beauty of growth, to the gladness of
research, discovery, scientific prediction. It has released the faculties from
the theological curse. It has suggested a future of boundless possibilities,
and aroused an emulation in pursuit of the Unknown, which makes every
sincere student and thinker, a possible teacher of somewhat divinely help-
ful and £Edr.
Social Revolutions are a third impulse. Are not the public destinies,
^ese stately and awful marches of retribution and regeneration, a revelation
of the Living God before which all records and traditions pale ? What
authority in church or creed can stand before a fire which is purging every
institution and kindling all living consciences with unprecedented convic-
tions ?
And finally comes the Inmost Teaching of the Spirit to the Individual
Soul: the intellectual and moral light that illumines itfi*om a higher source
than any Lord or Master, more interior than any spoken or written Word :
the sense of immediate access to Truth in its purity and absoluteness, by
the innate relation of the mind to Deity, — the delight in perfect freedom as
the only way not only to the love of Truth, but to the glad certainty which
attends it : the dear assurance of help and guidance such as only the
Maker's intimate Presence could give : the inborn solemnity of our respon-
sibilities and opportunities ; the sacredness of spiritual relations into which
no human organizations can intrude, which no divine official can reach, and
which can be fulfilled only by the fi*ee love and service of an Indwelling
God.
No Master but the Maker : no Church but Progress and Liberty : no
creed to walk by but the Eternal Laws of Love and Righteousness which
are new, within and around us, forevermore : therefore, no official religious
authority in any Being that ever wore the form of Man. Such surely the
condition of the Religious Life as it stands in our dearest experience.
Such the liberty, theology, piety, which is to meet the needs of the coming
time.
It is not negation : it is not isolation. Because it is individualism, and
is not based on institutions, it is not therefore selfish nor self-centred. It
recognizes the past ; but it draws its life fi-om the present. It stands in the
issues of all ages ; but it knows that the energy by which it divines their
meaning and appropriates their good, is in private inspiration. And just as
the coral is dead solid rock except at its extremity, where it is emancipated
into individual life, beautiful and intense, — so it is for us to let the past
rest, as that which was life, but now is life no longer, and feel that every
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Bond or Free. 55
soul has its own &ir function to fulfil, nearest the light, and as a part of that
Present in which all vital forces centre.
" The Spirit's fulness we embrace ; away with Man's poor dole :
The sweetest visit of Thy grace asks but an open soul.
Full feels our solemn privacy the calm celestial air :
In humble joy we lay on Thee the loving clasp of prayer."
Wftat then shall we say of this which I proceed to recount ? The repre-
sentatives of the most liberal sect in Christendom, the Unitarian, met some
weeks since in New York. They were men educated in the largest light
and liberty of the age. They were men who had denied the divinity of Jesus,
every one. They were men who had dared to speculate on the Bible and
the Church, in a manner utterly unwarrantable, if free individualism is not
the way to truth, and the basis of communion. They knew themselves to be
infidels in the sight of nearly all Christendom, because their speculations
had been inconsistent with the frank recognition of an infallible Teacher, of
an official outward authority representative of God on earth. They knew
that Religion was natural, that the £au:ulties were not unworthy of confidence,
nor under a curse, but the appointed organs for seeking, testing, and appro-
priating Truth.
And yet they dared not unite for practical work in the noble fields of this
our great social regeneration, without fastening around their necks a con-
fession, which implied such a dependence on the old dogmas of officialism
as could not be acceptable to many of the most intelligent and devout men
with whom they had been associated. They practically resolved to unite
only with those who call Jesus * the Lord Christ ' and their Christian work
*the building up of His Kingdom,' as that of *the Son of God.' They in-
sisted on phrases which, if they do not mean the official sovereignty of Jesus,
as they have always heretofore, — mean nothing, and are a poor mask to
deceive other sects into yielding an unmerited respect They refused to drop
the name Unitarian, and left it defined in this sectarian and ecclesiastical
way. Too wise utterly to deny progress, yet too weak to dare its path,
they tried to steer between authority and freedom. They rejected resolu-
tions which presented ^ofiSidal and mediatgn^ Christianity in a compara-
tively consistent way ; and yei; when asked to co-operate with all Churches
doing Christian work, in the broad and simple sense of ' the Love of God
and Man,' preferred to drop out this free definition of Christianity, already
identified with the heresy of Theodore Parker and others, and to pass the reso-
lution of co-operation in a form which left the old officialism in the conditions
of communion undisturbed. And so they repeated the old perversity of
which their sect was guilty in the case of Mr. Parker : being tested again,
and again found wanting : clinging to outward authority as against inward
freedom and yet fearing to accept it in its logical truth : like that Church of
Laodicea, neither cold nor hot, which the Spirit was fein to spue out of its
mouth.
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56 The Radical.
There were men in this Convention, who believed in a nobler trust in
God and Man. They were silenced, overawed or outvoted. Mr. Wasson
objected to a form of words thrust between the soul and God. Mr. Ames of
Albany, who proposed the liberal definition of Christianity above mentioned,
consented to drop it at the suggestion of a conservative layman. Robert
Collyer objected to serving on a committee to carry out the plan of co-opera-
tion thus narrowed to a creed. Others of like sentiment sat silent, probably
seeing the uselessness of protest The laymen of the Convention voted
almost in a body for the illiberal policy, under the leadership of Dr. Bellows,
who held up l>efore them the claims and dignities of ** instituted religion,"
and the terrors of a Christianity without Christ He let them understand that
he preferred Clavinism to the unhappy status thus designated The Con-
vention shared his preference for institution over inspiration, for authority
over liberty. It was he who a few years since described Unitarianism as
in a suspense of £;iith, and announced the ' absence of any further road ' in
the direction of that individual freedom, whereto its face was supposed to be
turned. The Unitarians seem to have endorsed this valuable revelation,
and wheeled about accordingly, or at least, pleased with a style of strategy
to which we have already l>een introduced in the military sphere, proceeded
to entrench themselves before the frowning Yorktowns that barred the road
of Liberty. This unready commander informed them that the time had not
come for a Broad Christian Church. They accepted his report of the divine
request for a little delay, and kindly granted it
Dr. Bellows seems to have awed the Convention into sectarian propriety.
Dr. Clarke did what gentle management could do towards inaugiu^ting what
is called in politics an * era of good feeling.' He enlarged so eloquently on
the practical good work to be done, that many of the members forgot to ask
whether it was not possible that such work might also be done outside the
Unitarian body, and whether in subtly assuming that the unity of that body
must of necessity be maintained, they were not slighting their duty to the
cause of intellectual and spiritual freedom. Dr. Clarke was cer^unly as
well suited as any one for the function of mediator between the sharp diver-
sides of belief and purpose that were likely to appear. He had on the one
hand, just gained fresh respect from the conservatives by repudiating all
sympathy with the intellectual and religious radicalism of Mr. Emerson ;
while on the other, his well-earned reputation for practical earnestness in
moral reforms and for kindly personal qualities, gave him a cordial hearing
from the liberal thought of the denomination. Under his mild manipulation
protest measurably subsided, and a conservative policy triumphed in the
name of a noble liberality. But it harmonized no differences. Nor can the
principle of Freedom be so evaded and put to sleep.
The result seems to have been, that while in outward appearance there
was harmony, while the sect makes an imposing figure by its unanimity and
largeness of plan, while the shrewd managers, having carried through the
Convention a confession of essentially orthodox belief^ are busy in impress-
ing upon the more radical portion of the community, and laying it as an
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Bond or Free. 57
anction to their own consciences, that there was really no creed after all, —
the more progressive members are mortified and indignant at the part they
are made to play.
I am sure of tiiis from personal conversation with some of them, and from
the reports, published and private of others. As one who has no part in
theological organizations, I maybe permitted to say, that the result seems to
me no worse than they had reason to expect The principle of Inward Free-
dom cannot be established, until its supporters let the sects understand that
they have sufficient faith in individual power to be willing to test it in their
own persons. I cannot but think that such men are out of place in such an
organization, however earnest their purpose to convert and save it The
new wine to new bottles ; the new cloth should be a whole garment, not a
patch in the old. Possibly an established theological sect may be converted
in part from within ; though mainly, I am persuaded, such redeeming force
must come from without ; since it is the oiganization itself and its real ne-
cessities of self-defence, which constitute the chief obstacle to growth. And
at all events, they who see that it is so, are called to act from a position con-
sistent with that perception. They forsake their vantage of thought and
work in appealing to sectarian combination in the name of individual liberty.
Theological organizations crumble, by force of laws more potent than their
appeals. And an individual soul is not weak, nor unaided, nor unprofitable,
because it works without organized doctrinal co-operation. Let that come
in due time, if it will : but let the soul at least speak its full word to-day.
It is good for our more radical Unitarian friends to hear their associates who
represent a traditional religion congratulating themselves now, that progress
was repudiated, that radicalism was rebuked, that the Unitarian name at last,
stands firm 'on the basis of the Kingdom of the Lord Jesus Christ' It at
least relieves them of an imnatural bond. There can be no doubt that this
policy has lost the little sect its most earnest, able and courageous members,
the men who gave it distinctive significance among christian sects. They
can hardly be found hereafter in a special communion, whose members
scrupulously strain out the statement of Christianity dearest to the free heart
of Him they call their Master, as *' an attempt to tUfine Religion," yet swal-
low the camel of a dogmatic confession of £aith.
There were some things in the tone of this Convention which recall the
vanity and self-sufficiency of the older sects. There was an implication in its
proceedings that somehow the Spirit of God was there, |^ting to be car-
ried over to outsiders, who were supposed to be perishing for the lack of its
special ideas of " sitting at Jesus' feet" The sermon of Dr. Clarke described
the duty of Unitarians as a " change of base," a carrying the gospel over to
heretics, as Paul's work was to carry early Christianity over to the Gentiles,
to show them that they could be Christians without being orthodox in doc-
trine, and so on. However kindly meant this style of liberality may be, it is
certainly a bold flight of ^cy to conceive of heretics and outsiders as need-
ing to be instructed of Unitarians in the freedom of the Spirit As if the
churches had not been false and narrow and reluctant, while heredc and
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58 The Radical.
comeouter were ever hastening on before, to greet the new h'ght and life as
it came ! The tone is most unbecoming, and indicates a singular blindness
to the fects of the time. It comes of the assumption that Religion is tradi-
tional and ecclesiastical ; that revelation comes through institutions rather
than through inspiration ; the delusion of all authoritative churches, but
hardly consistent with the conduct of a sect which has been the Protestant
of Protestants.
I may be charged with singling out the spots in this Convention, and ig-
noring its radiance. I reply that it is not my purpose to do more than state
its relation to the question between Outward Authority and Inward Free-
dom. And in illustration of this, let me say further that there seems to
have been a great deal said or implied, about certain duties of " keeping
out " and " taking in," as if God's fold were a sheep-pen and not the spirit-
ual universe ; as if His Church had doors which a self-appointed committee
of Christians had power to open or shut ! Worse than this was the aristo-
cratic tone of some of the speakers, as if entrance to this lofty corporation
was actually a step in social position, and as if it was something indecorous
to offer an indiscriminate fellowship ! This was but the relic of ad inbred
mania for respectable standing, incident to the circumstances in which the
sect grew up, which it is really fcist escaping. The Convention was not re-
sponsible for it, except in so far as it took courage to itself^ from the mani-
fest fear of the majority to assume a brave democratic attitude. To put
away true democracy from a Church in this day, is as though the bubbles
should deny the sea on which they float
All these things more or less glaringly misrepresent the age. They of
course convince no outsider of the duty to join in sectarian organization : for
the most advanced sect to make such exhibition of its quality is to repel us
more than ever. They show, with great force, the inconsistency of doctrin-
al organizations with the principle of Inward Freedom. And the Unitarian
Convention is the feeble and inconsequent attempt to reconcile with the
spirit of the age that authoritative religion which the Encyclic Letter presents
in bold and consistent defiance thereof. It places the dogma of a King
anointed to nile the individual soul in the full blaze of our ninteenth century,
nay, of our American, spiritual liberty : — not, as the Papacy does, outside
and over against it. I believe it is there in order that we may see it shrivel
in those divine fires. It exemplifies the foUy of organizing religious imion on
a theological basi^ ; of building a church on a creed. It is time to escape the
old dread of a religion that stands only in the individual conviction ; the old
pretence of priesthood that to be a citizen of the heavenly kingdom one must
be the member of an organized ecclesiastical body, and that God does not
speak to men through the private soul, but through institutions and associ-
ated action only. It is time to trust the soul ; time to see that till one shall
have done that, he is not fit to be a free member of any Church, but only to
be the slave of a religious despotism ; that the pledge to his fellow men to
hold on to a dogma will never teach him to walk alone. It is time to recog-
nize the right of the Living and Present God alone to our vows of obedience
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The Lord's Supper. 59
and of Humanity alone to form the bounds of our communion. A free mind
will refuse all pledges of belief in the face of men save to that liberty
which holds it open to new teaching. It will refuse to make its theological
conviction the basis of its religious sympathy. Its religion will indeed be
sodaL Its communion wiU shape itself into a Church. But the Church
shall be open as Brotherhood ; it shall be free of doctrinal pledges between
man and man ; free of claim to Wnd and loose ; free to every earnest word
the Spirit sends the Age. It shall say to every one ; — this union is not for
the purpose of binding your thought or suppressing 3rour honest doubt ; of
teaching you to conform, or imitate or follow guides ; but to help you into
self-knowledge, self-respect, and perfect liberty to find and obey the Truth :
not to make you confess Lords and Masters, or put on Greek and Hebrew
labels ; but to aid you in your moral endeavors, jrour devout aspirations,
your genuine affections, and your humane work.
This is what we, friends, have meant by a Church : what we have tried
to make this Church stand for ; and what we mean to make it stand for, I
trust, more and more perfectly, as loog as it shall stand at all. You have
bravely sustained it, under many difficulties, some of you for the whole
twelve years that have passed since we opened its public religious services ;
years of struggle with such obstacles as must beset every free movement in
its beginning ; years also of increasing confidence. It is not for us to esti-
mate our success. But at least we will all of us be right in purpose. We
will stand on an Eternal Rock. We will greet the whole Present as it is,
and obey its voice. The morning calls us with clearest golden light and
bracing air, to walk in this love and liberty, and it shall not call in vain.
THE LORD'S SUPPER.
SECOND PAFBK. — ITS PRIMFFrVS OBSERVANCE.
THE disciples seem to have understood Jesus to institute a perpetual
memorial of himself. Yet they were not infallible, and it is admitted
that they sometimes grossly misinterpreted" the Master's words.
Undisciplined in the observation of facts, and carried away with the tor-
rent of feeling, it was most natural for them to have gone beyond the pre-
cept Calling to mind the last supper, and the words " Do this in remem-
brance of me," it would be surprising if they had not put their fond and
worshipful regard into an established ritual Yet no ritual is created com-
plete at once. It grows up almost or quite unconsciously.
There is something most charming in the child-likeness of the primitive
disciples in their earliest days. For a little time after the Pentecostal out-
pouring, there was, for once, a universal Christian communion. The disci-
ples had all things in common, we are told, those who had possessions sel-
ling them, and laying down the price at the apostles feet So "distribution
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6o The Radical.
was made unto every man according as he had need." One of the most
iftiarked features of the new religious society, was the close attachment, and
affectionate regard of the members for one another. The characteristic was
not wholly lost for centuries. So long as the Nazarenes continued despised
and persecuted, they were very dear to one another. To manifest their
brotherly love constituted a part of their religious service. The feet must
strike us, modems and occidentals, as strange, if not incredible. Neverthe-
less, it was certainly so. In the Love-feast, of which I shall speak more
fully in another place, sociability was enjoyed apart from the properly reli-
gious or devotional element ; but, at first, the Lord's supper was the grand
occasion of communing with one another, as well as with Christ and God.
I shall take particular pains to bring into view the social element, as it is
the one which, in our day, is almost entirely overlooked. Throughout the
New Testament, we can but observe the prominence of personal affection.
" Greet one another with the holy kiss," says Paul ; and whole chapters of
his epistles are taken up with salutations. Without entering into the
affectionate spirit which animated the Apostolic chiu*ch, it were impossible
to understand their celebration of the Lord's supper. With an apprecia-
tion of it, a religious supper would seem to be almost a necessity, irrespec-
tive of any command or suggestion on the part of Jesus. The picture fur-
nished us in the second chapter of Acts may be too highly colored, but we
cannot help feeling that it conveys, on the whole, a just impression.
" And they (the new converts) continued steadfastly in the aposties doctrine
and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and in prayers. And all that
believed were together, and had all things common ; and sold their pos-
sessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.
And they continuing daily, with one accord in the temple, and breaking
bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness
of heart" Observe that these people were " living religion.''^ Their whole
life was taken up into their Christianity. Fellowship was put beside doc-
trine, and breaking bread beside prayer ; while the public service in the
temple seemed scarcely so sacred as their eating together in private houses
with joyful and simple hearts. From the narrative, it would not appear that
they did not have the communion three times a day ; though it is probable
that it was only the supper, the principal meal of the day, which assumed a
religious character.
It is important to notice that the Lord's supper was celebrated every day.
It is not unlikely that Jesus meant to suggest that he should be tenderly re-
membered once a year, at the Passover supper. But glowing affection sets
itself no ordinary bounds. To those in whose minds Jesus was still so real-
ly living, every day seemed none too often to eat and drink, in his name ;
and everything led to the consecration, for this purpose, of the chief meal,
the supper.
It seems generally to be thought that, though the Lord's supper was par-
taken of by the primitive church in connection with an actual meal, yet itself
was apart and subsequent to it, a sort of appendage to the proper meaL
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The Lord's Supper. 6i
This is a theory with no facts for its support It was invented to justify our
modem communion ceremonies, which are but grim anatomies of those
living and genial suppers the primitive church enjoyed. In the very
passage which I have quoted, and ui an immediate connection with the
breaking of bread from house to house, it says that "they did eat their meat
with gladness." It was no show of eating, and no mere breaking of bread,
but a hearty meal which constituted their Lord*s supper. "It was a social
meal," says Prof. Stanley, " where the hungry looked forward to satisfying
their wants. It was a supper, that is, not merely a morsel of bread, and a
drop of wine, taken in the early morning, or in the seclusion of the Eastern
noon, but the regular substantial meal of the day ; a supper at the usual
hour after the sun had set, and therefore in its time, as well as in its festive
accompaniments, recalling the night of the original institution. It seemed
the most fitting expression of the whole Christian life, where all things,
" whether they ate or drank," could be done " to the glory of God."
After a time, the Lord's supper was celebrated no longer on every day, but
only on the first day of the week. Yet the character of the meal was not
thereby changed. It was still enjoyed in the evening. A little incident in
the life of Paul brings before us one of these Christian gatherings. Paul,
having revisited Troas, was about to depart early on Monday morning.
Sunday evening the disciples came together, as their custom was, to break
bread. With us, the principal service is that of preaching. In the age of
the apostles the grand occasion was the breaking of bread. In its promi-
nence, the social evening meal was to the primitive church, what the mass is
to the Roman Catholic. Many torches were burning in that large Supper
room in Troas, and the meeting was unusually solemn and impressive, be-
cause the great Apostle, the spiritual Father of those believers, was about
to take his leave, never, perhaps, to see their faces more. The interesting
group listened to the earnest words of Paul, and could not separate till the
break of day. The Lord's supper is here identified with that in which Paul
takes the necessary nourishment for setting out upon his journey. Pro£
Stanley remarks that the word " eaten," in this connection, implies making
a meaL The peculiar circumstances in which the disciples came together
at this time to break bread, prevented the occasion fix)m being, as it usually
was, a joyful one. Yet the social element was most prominent. Combined
with the religious character was precisely that significance which we attach
to the giving of a generous banquet to a departing guest
In order to see how fi^e and easy, how eminently social and human, the
primitive Lord's supper was, it is necessary for us to glance at some abuses
which crept into the observance in the church at Corinth. Paul writes to
the church how he has heard that divisions and contentions have arisen
through the very supper which is calculated to promote unity and brotherly
love. He begins by assuring them that to come together and eat to that
end, is not to observe the Lord's supper. He suggests that many of them
have been more intent upon gratifying their own appetites, than in discharg-
ing a Christian duty. The distinctions of wealth and rank had found place
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62 The Radical.
at the common table ; the rich had withheld their good things from the poor,
so that while one was improvided for, another was eating and drinking to
excess. It appears from ibis, that it was the custom for all the members of
the brotherhood to bring with them, according to their means and conven-
ience, the provision for the supper, and to spread the contents of their sev-
eral baskets upon the common table. But careless of the poor, selfish and
vain, the rich had so set out their delicacies as to be able to keep them among
themselves. Or, like greedy children, some had hastened immediately on
their arrival, to appropriate the best of the feast, to the annoyance and grief
of those who came in later. Now, the bare possibility of eating to excess,
and drinking to intoxication, is sufficient to indicftte die total unlikeness of
the Lord's supper then and now. Evidently a church tea-party much more
nearly answers to the apostolical supper, than the stiff and empty ceremony
which we call the communion. It is not only in respect to quantity and va-
riety of food and drink that the two suppers are in contrast. Consider how
radically they differ in all the social elements which should characterize the
meeting and communion of friends. To think of engaging in cheerful con-
versation with the friend at your elbow in the modem service ! Evidently
there is no thought of sociability in the latter, while it was most prominent
in the former. That which in our day would most resemble the breaking of
bread in the primitive church, would be the meeting in their hall of an En-
thusiastic Secret Society to partake of a supper in honor of a distinguished
and beloved leader. Yet there would still be lacking something which would
have to be sought for in the ease and simplicity of a picnic made up of con-
genial friends or related £unilies. And this in turn might be wanting in the
Religious element
How unfortunate it is that the Christian church has inherited the solemn
rebuke of Paul, without the kind of observance to which his stem words ap-
ply. I cannot help thinking that the zealous apostie, in his conscientious
endeavor to correct an abuse, went to the other extreme. Strictiy to follow
his injunctions, and vividly to call up the scene of the betrayal, would induce
a solemnity irreconcilable with sociability. Hitherto, a genial intercourse
had characterized the common meal of brotherly love and tender remem-
brance. Hereafter, the mind was to be fixed upon the last hours of the de-
parted, and on subjects of purely religious contemplation. Unconsciously,
perhaps, Paul inaugurated the movement which result in sundering the
Love-feast from the Lord's Supper and in erecting the latter into a solemn
sacrament. No wonder that the Apostie was thoroughly indignant at the
desecration, and that he should have used strong terms to set forth the enor-
mity of it Aiming simply at terrifying the careless and selfish, of course
the picture of the supper, as he draws it, is very partial both in detail and
coloring. Whatever is written for a particular end is inevitably shaped to
fit that end. It is because the whole tmth is not in point when a single
duty or lesson is to be enforced. I cannot think that Paul wished to make
the supper a solemn and unsocial one. It only is certain that he would have
the serious meaning and associations of the occasion check the fiivoHty and
rudeness of those Corinthians. Daniel Bo wen.
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SONNETS.
PRIDE.
Could one ascend with an unheard-of flight,
And skyward, skyward, without limit soar,
As if the pinion of a god he wore,
Till earth were left a dwindling star, whose light
Flew faint upon his track, at last his height
All height would vanquish ; there in deeps of space,
Were neither upper nor inferior place,
Distinction's little zone below him quite.
Oh happy dreams of such a soul have I,
And softly to my heart of him I sing.
Whose seraph pride, all pride doth overwing,
Soars unto meekness, reaches low by high,
And, as in grand equalities of the sky.
Stands level with the beggar and the king.
THE GUESTS.
Know thou, O friend, that vainly on the ear.
Vainly as golden pollen on the sea.
Fall hints of the supernal mysteries.
Save as the soul itself with equal worth
Extend them hospitality. For truths,
Royal, a royal welcome must receive.
They are no common travellers, nor come,
With purse at girdle, to the common inns.
Where 'tis the gold has welcome, not the guest
Nearing the mansion of the soul, each waits
Without, until the master of the house
Come frankly forth, come frankly as the day.
And take him by the hand, and lead him in.
And say with all his heart, " Thine is my house,
O Guest; use all, and debtor be for naught:
Thy presence is thy recompense, that still
O'er measuring service unto largess runs." d. a. w.
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ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAIRUS.
Charity. — Such is the perfect relation, the normal needs of men never
clash, but support each other. Such is the perfect provision, what I rightly
do for myself I do for all others. So is it true that Charity may begin at
home. One cannot give of poverty of soul. Charity flows only from wealth.
Who can escape the beneficence and power of your personal wealth ? How
shall a Man conceal himself or be lost ? All ages after inherit your wealth.
Your greatest Charity is your bequest of Soul.
Company. — A great traveller said to Socrates, "I have travelled much,
but never with much enjoyment." " Would you know the reason ? " asked
Socrates. " You have always travelled with yourself." There is more than
appears on the surface, in this reply. It is the hint of a universal feet A
man draws about him such company as he is able to entertain. Neither
Nature nor Men have anything to say, when there is no response. It is im-
possible to gain recognition from one whose eyes see not, whose ears hear
not A principle of reciprocity determines our society, the character of it
Deep answereth unto deep. The soul finds the Christ not outside itself.
" God's presence chamber is the human heart" God, Nature, Man, all
things on Earth, or in Heaven, shall be as thou art able to translate them.
Fathom thy souL Enjoyment and company are from within.
Providence. — There was a poor man whose potato crop was nipped by
the frost Having no more seed to plant, he sat down and mourned. In
the night-time some neighbors went and replanted for him. Presently new
vines were starting up through the ground. With joy and surprise he de-
clared the mercy and goodness of Providence. The power of the frost had
been overruled. He was lost in mystery and gratitude, and told all his
neighbors what the Lord would do for a man who put his trust in Him.
The next year he deemed it safe and prudent to trust the Lord from the
beginning, thus saving all expenditure of money for seed. So he ploughed,
and then watched his little field only to see it, day by day, run to weeds.
Weary at last of the experiment, he concluded that, to trust Providence
now and then might answer, but taking one year with another, it did n't pay;
I am disposed to think that this little story, which has in some forgotten
way come to my knowledge, illustrates that trust of Providence which is
everywhere wise, and that which is everywhere not wise. This potato-rais-
ing man was evidently not in the secret. // always pays to trust Providence,
We cannot at all times escape this consideration of ''^pay?^ The thing to
be looked after, is, that you square yourself with this providence ; that you
trust it, and not your own penurious, lazy, or worldly speculating whim.
Providence is with you in all appointed ways. When you have done your
all, then, " Wait on the Lord and be stilU^ God has created us as his work-
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The Denial of Christ. 65
crs. He will do for us nothing which we are able to do for ourselves ; able,
not only at this present moment, but at any future moment, through our ca-
pacity for growth. The Gods do nothing when men are idle. The moun-
tains stand unmoved, and no faith can start them. When this potato-man
had done his all in his first planting, then Providence came to his succor.
Providence was dwelling In the good hearts of his neighbors. They had
seen his honest efforts to help himself and when the frost had baffled him,
they were happy to bafiSe the frost Thus the frost was Mkewise a Provi-
dence for them. It helped confirm the presence of God in their own
hearts.
Providence is omnipresent, compelling fit)m every thing some revelation
of its own perfection ; of its adequate powers for its own purposes of destiny.
Your wit shall be sharpened with each new trial, and radiate from you in
all manner of inventions. Necessity is a fruitful mother. She leads her
children ever forth unto their Day of Achievement Man does not know
what vast possibilides slumber within him. He cannot be tempted beyond
what he is able. Every aspiration is a pledge of his power.
But I must say, and then close, that Providence does not reside in indi-
vidual men, but in humanity. When one is sick, another is well ; when
one is weak, another is strong ; when one is ignorant another is wise ; when
one is asleep, another is awake : so Health, Strength, Wisdom and Watch-
fulness, sufficient unto the emergency, are ever present, and potent through-
out the world, and God is praised, who hath marvelously created Mankind,
— embracing all people and all ages, past, present, and to come, into the
perfect stature of his own power and goodness !
THE DENIAL OF CHRIST.
THERE was once a bishop who spent all his time in building costly
chtirches and performing gorgeous ceremonies, and assured all who
gave him money for these things, of full forgiveness for all their sins.
Thus the poor and ignorant were left unfed, except by one of the humblest
of the clergy, who gave himself wholly to teaching and relieving them. His
sympathy for them forced him to preach ag^dnst the rich men who op-
pressed them. Then there arose great indignation among the patrons of
the bishop, and the preacher was suspended fix)m all his functions. But
still he went on working for the poor and ignorant Disregarding the dis-
cipline of the church, he soon came to disregard her doctrines also.
Neglected by his brethren in the ministry, he fell among heretics who
taught him to deny the Divinity of Christ, but still he went on laboring for
Christ's poor. At length the bishop summoned him before him and said,
** They tell me that thou dost not worship Jesus Christ*' He answered,
" They tell thee the truth. I worship God our Father and him only." Then
the bishop said, « Thou hast denied Christ" And he answered again,
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66 The Radical.
*• Who is Jesus of Nazareth that I should honor him ? " Then the bishop
said to his attendants " He blasphemeth. Let him be imprisoned." And
so the heretic was imprisoned, and soon died of the hardships of his confine-
ment Then the bishop rejoiced greatly and said in the pulpit of his cathe-
dral, "Thus the Lord Jesus smiteth him that denieth him." That night he
dreamed a dream, and lo ! he and the dead heretic stood together before the
throne whereon sat the Son of Man in his glory. And the judge said, " He
that speaketh a word against the Son of Man it shall be forgiven him.
Whatsoever ye have done unto the least of my brethren, I receive as done
to me. Thou who hast fed the hungry and taught the ignorant, I account
thee my disciple. Thou hast given thy life for what thou in thy blindness
deemedst the truth, I, who am the Truth, receive thee as having died for
me. Thou hast confessed me on earth, I confess thee in heaven. Enter
thou into the joy of thy L^d. But thou, who callest thyself my bishop, thou
hast neglected to feed my sheep, and therein thou hast denied me. Thou
hast left the sins of the rich men unrebuked, and therein a second time, thou
hast denied me. Thou hast persecuted even unto death, him who sought
to follow in my steps. Thrice hast thou denied me among men. I deny
thee before my Father and his angels. Go hence and learn whatsis mean-
eth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice. Not every one that saith unto me,
Lord, Lord, shalt enter into my Kingdom, but he that doeth the will of my
Father." Fred May Holland.
''THE RADICAL" AND RELIGION.
Letter of Criticism from Henry James.
[The following letter is one of a number, upon the same general
topic, which we have been pleased to receive. We count it among
the cheering signs of the time, that the subject of Religion is securing
more and more a thoughtful attention. Mr. James's letter, unlike the
others which have been sent us, takes exception to our brief state-
ment concerning Religion, made in the September number. We are
glad to offer our readers the benefit of Mr. James's opinion. The
essay which he promises upon the True Philosophy of Religion, we
shall publish in due time.
LETTER.
My dear Mr, Editor : — You asked me a littie while since to contrib-
ute to your periodical ; will you accept a contribution slightly critical ?
I like your new publication for its neatness of finish, and the atmosphere
of intellectual fireedom it carries with it ; but it seems to me to be a litde
hazy upon the subject to which it is professedly devoted — Religion. I sup-
pose indeed that Religion, dogmatically regarded, is £ist losing all its old dis-
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''The Radical" and Religion. 67
tinctnesSy and will erelong give place to a purely sentimental conception of
the subject, which will make it cover the whole realm of man's social and
aesthetic activity. But this is a totally modem use of the word, and is quite
incongruous with what was originally meant by it That the old Irish
woman whom you describe as dozing on a bench in Boston Common on a
hot Sunday morning, may present a more grateful picture in that position
to eyes divine and human, than the same old woman pent up in a church
among a steaming crowd of worshippers intent upon their ritual fandangoes,
is quite conceiv^le ; but it astonishes me to hear you call it also a more
" religious " picture. So your friend Mr. Collyer has a good right to admire
men of genius, men who help the world along ; and even to defend them
from injurious criticism when they prefer on occasion the claims of their vo-
cation to those of public worship. But I don't see that he has any right to
say in a general way that Religion means helpfulness. Helpfulness, as Mr.
Collyer calls it^ is an unquestionable good thing in itself, or he could n't have
made it the text of so charming an Essay ; but I deny that it ever entered
into the original unsophisticated meaning of the word Religion, any more
than the flavor of peaches did, or the law of gravitation ; both of which are
good things. No doubt Religion is a tree which bears very juicy succulent
fruit ; but any one who has seen a Rhode Island apple orchard can easily
understand what capital fruit may grow upon the most gnarled, uncomely
trunk and branches. And I insist that there is the same contrast between
the peaceable fruits of religion in the world, and the grim, stormy, tempest-
tossed form of Religion herself^ that there is between a barrel of beautiful
Rhode Island pippins and the ugly, squat, contorted tree that bringeth them
forth.
Religion, in its primitive, undefUed sense, by no means implied on the part
of its votary a positive attitude towards good, but rather a negative attitude
towards eviL That is to say, the distinctively religious man was not the
man who was primarily intent upon doing good, but rather upon combatting
evil. According to all the great primitive creeds, a man may have a per-
fectly sweet, natural disposition, and be inclined by temperament to every
innocent and orderly delight, and yet if he^have not, typically at least, un-
dergone a change of nature or become a partaker of a new Divine birth, he
is no better than a castaway. This was the invariable use of the word before
religion had sunk into a sentimental moralism ; and all the good done by
men previous to this indispensable divine lustration of their nature, was
held to be inwardly corrupt and only outwardly fair. In other words, Reli-
gion originally postulated no harmonious, but only a contrarious relation be-
tween God and man. It alleged a natural disqualification on man's part for
God's favor, and therefore suspended his vital sanctity upon his being re-
deemed from that taint We may, if we please, amuse ourselves with this
deliverance of the early religious conscience. We may vote the early reli-
gious mind of the race to have been a £dse witness of the truth, or borne a
perverse testimony to the characteristic tendencies of human nature. But
we cannot deny that Religion then uniformly pictured her votary as naturally
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68 The Radical.
exposed to the divine clemency summarily comprehended in what was
called the Church. You may, I repeat, consider this pretension of the early
religious conscience to have been wholly unfounded ; may persuade yourself
in fact, that it was sheer nonsense from top to bottom ; but there the pre-
tension stands, never to be explained by our modem pulpit poltroonery,
which seeks to drown out of mind all the deepejr problems of life and des-
tiny, by representing the relations of God to man, and man to God, as purely
sentimental ; that is, personal and egotistic on both sides alike, and there-
fore perilous to every instinct of true manhood in the soul.
This, then, is my criticism of your periodical : that in professing to be de-
voted to Religion, it yet looks at Religion from a wholly private point of
view, and ignores its immense public or historic significance. It is not of
the smallest philosophical consequence how you, or I, or Mr. Collyer inter-
prets Religion ; but it is of the deepest philosophic interest to ascertain how
all mankind have interpreted it. If your periodical will tell us this feirly and
squarely, I think and I hope it will thrive ; but if it contents itself with
advertising Religion as a something, never understood until now, I think 'We
must be content to see it born only to dwindle. New views of religious
truth are inevitable and desirable ; but Religion itself has a perfectly fixed or
ascertained import in history, as implying, first, a hostile relation on nlan's
part to God ; and then a great scheme of propitiatory dealing on God's part
with man, by which He gradually cheats the latter out of his enmity, and
reconciles him in immortal friendship ; and any views of it, consequently,
which ignore it in this grand historic aspect are too superficial to be inter-
esting, except to persons who are wholly disinterested in the subject
But I am afraid I shall exhaust my welcome, if I go on to protract my
letter. But if you should like me at any time to state what, in my view, is
the true philosophy of religion, apprehended as I report it, I will do my
best to comply with your request Yours truly, h. j.
BOOK NOTICE.
[The following Book Notice was prepared for the September Number of
the Atlantic, but in the process of publication brevity was consulted with
such success, that the whole criticism disappeared. Hardly more than a
column of general approbation remains to show how the Atlantic cherishes
the office of critic and its own subscription list Such a shining example of
American independence must certainly extort something from the human
mind. And we are authorized to say that whenever heretofore the Atlantic
has published criticisms of a safe and orthodox nature, it was entirely by
accident that brevity was not consulted. We commence by quoting the few
introductory lines which the Atlantic did not deem disastrous to its sub-
scribers and disagreeable to Mr. Hedge and Christianity. If the reader
chooses, he can afterwards qualify the candor with the candy, as he admires
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Book Notice. 69
the vigor with which the first of American periodicals has thrown o£f an
element so deleterious as criticism.
Reason in Religion. By Frederic Henry Hedge. Boston: Walker,
• Fuller & Co.
'* The various essays which are brought together under this title, discuss
questions of Theology, and the opinions which mankind holds upon the
most interesting philosophical and spiritual themes. The author's aim is to
state, as fairly as he can, conflicting views, and to propound his own solu-
tion. In this labor, Mr. Hedge appears to represent the condition of Uni-
tarian thinking which prefers a rational to a traditional ground of authority
in matters pertaining to the spiritual life, and strives to interpret and accom-
modate the sacred history without forsaking it'*
(Further than this the Atlantic does not venture.)
He stands where ^^juste-milieu^ promising to become thoroughly critical,
still holds with average Unitarianism upon some essential points : so that
when the Left-Wing would claim him for a leader, he advances towards an
uneicpected pacification with the Right : not, however, efiecting it with the
more orthodoi^ of the party, because his intellect is still too clear, and his
common sense too shrewd For they insist that in every collision between
Science and Scripture, Science must give way before the text : while he
claims that the interpretations of a genuine science can abrogate it At such
points, Mr. Hedge narrowly escapes admitting the supreme authority of
Reason ; but there appears to be some recoil of a cool and cautious tempera-
ment, which has balanced statements so long, and so heartily hated the
crudeness which sometimes devotes itself to specidation, that he jumps back
again upon some of the printed representations which the soul has once
made of its experiences ; this he does just when you are supposing that he
had taken passage with the soul, which by developing, can alone explain
and justify itself A perilous jump, the Orthodox liberals aver, since he
had pushed off too £u: before it seemed to him reasonable to attempt it
A useless expenditure of a manly intellect, the Radicals exclaim, who won-
der that it does not feel quite safe in the deep-keeled and stout-ribbed
buoyancy of the Master Builder. In short, of course, whenever a man
essap that backward jump from the act of reasoning to Uie record that con-
tains reason, he lands in the juste-milieu. •
This is shown, for instance, in the admirable Preliminary to the book upon
" Rational Christianity," entitled, " The Cause of Reason the Cause of
Faith." After vindicating Rationalism out of Scripture itself out of His-
tory, and out of the necessary constitution of the human mind, and making,
in this review, some very dear and satisfactory statements which every
liberal thinker would subscribe, and cordially thank Mr. Hedge for such an
opportunity, he suddenly pauses to say : ** I am £u: firom maintaining that
Christianity must stand or fall with the belief in* miracles ; but I do main-
tain that Christian Churches, as organized bodies of believers must stand
or £all with the Christian confession, — that is, the confession of Christ as
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70 The Radical.
divinely human Master and Head." And we find that he has all along,
while making such a thorough proclamation of the supremacy of Reason,
assumed a boundary-line beyond which Reason must not go. But why
should not the human reason, to which the divinity of Christ is addressed,
accept that undoubted fact upon grounds of reason, and with all the conse-*
quences they involve ? The Orthodox will say that Mr Hedge has already
speculated so fax that his boundary line is useless ; the Radical will ask, why
should a single fiict or presumption of a fact be exempt from human search
and recognition ? How can any assumption that a fact or two must be
taken for granted without rationalizing, become an organic and vital distinc-
tion involved in the Christian confession ? Reason itself is the only prelim-
inary £aict, without which, neither living or confessing can proceed. And
Reason itself is a limit as well as an expanse. It is a work of superfluity to
furnish it with bars. But Reason includes, as Mr. Hedge himself would
gladly have all men know, the intuitive sensibility for moral and spiritual
truth : and to this we hasten to refer in the interest of Mr. Hedge's own fine
faith in Reason, the fiict of the divinity of Christ Does Mr. Hedge dread
to leave the cognizable to our power of recognition ? No, but he states that
the power of recognition must cognize in this fact something exceptional to
the recognizing power. Is it not more consistent to transfer the whole busi-
ness to a thorough going external Authority, that permits Reason only to
recognize the rationality of such pretended certitude ?
Elsewhere, as on pages 241, 242, 260, Mr. Hedge seems on the point of
remanding the personality of Christ back to the contemplation of the
unbiased and independent Reason, as when he says: ''The heart that
seeks will find a practical solution of it suited to its need ; but all will not
find the same ; " and again, ^* in the sphere of spiritual contemplation, no
personality abides but the ever-becoming personality of God, conceived by
&ith, and bom of faith in the individual soul.*' But his more conservative
intention still lingers in the sentence, " whatever derived and secondary
power by Divine permission may hold that place, is a temporary viceregent,
occupjring a borrowed throne, and exercising a delegated sway." This tem-
porary viceregent is the divinely human Master and Head. And yet, Dr.
Baur of Tubingen, and Theodore Parker, would gladly quote the fine say-
ing : " what was true of Christ historically is potentially true of all men.
There is nothing between God amd man, but man's self-alienation through
wa3n¥ardness and sin." Is it certain, then, as stated on page 228, that " all
candid inquiry must agree that Jesus felt himself ' sent ' and ordained by
God, in a quite peculiar and exceptional sense ? "
We believe that a similar judgment of having travelled so hx from tradi-
tion, that
** Should we wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o*er,"
will be made upon Mr. Hedge's treatment of miracles, by all the Orthodox
liberals, who are told that the modem repugnance to miracles is partly due
to the use which has been made of them as the evidences and authority
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Book Notice. 71
of Christian truth. " Miracles are valueless as proof of divine authority
because, with our views of such matters, it is easier to believe in the
thing to be proved than it is to believe in the aUeged proo£" The ques-
tion will naturally recur, of what use, then, are miracles ? To this, Mr.
Hedge has no satisfiurtory answer. He simply says that there are more
things in heaven and earth than the understanding dreams o^ and that if he
rejects everything miraculous from the sacred record, he must reject the
whole. This is merely a surmise that miracles are possible, and that the
accounts of reputed miracles serve as mortar to spiritual truth in Scripture.
Yet Mr. Hedge picks out a quantity of this mortar, when he confesses that
he cannot receive some of the miracles ; and he appears to desist only
when his freedom threatens to undermine the history. This does not fur-
nish to any school of believers a phUosophical process for retaining the
supernatural element in the life of ,Girist
But Mr. Hedge also desists from this decomposing criticism because he
believes in the a priori possibility of miracles : and we find an argument
addressed to those who reject all miracles because they are reputed viola-
tions of the " order of nature." To this the genuine supematuralist and the
rationalist will unitedly raise the same demur ; '* You have robbed miracles
of their use and station in the Christian scheme, of what consequence is it
to prove them not impossible ? We do not care to have them possible if
their value is exploded. If they do nothing but hold the texts in some
kind of continuity upon the printed page, are they worth the surmise that
science may yet declare their possibility. IVhen will miracles, if possible,
be useful ? And if they are useless, how can they be ever possible ? "
How many things could be referred to some hoped for legitimation by
science, if the power of a traditional education lent to them sufficient inter-
est The Chimera and the Tragelaph might then not be impossible, how-
ever useless. It is plain, that this suggestion is the last resort of an intel-
ligence that has stormed all the old lines of the supernatural, and shrinks
from, attacking the dtadeL But caution was sacrificed at the very first
parallel which reached and undermined the doctrine, so vital to any theory
of the supernatural, that miracles are evidences of Christian truth, and proof
of divine authority. After this, science will not think miracles worth the
saving.
When Mr. Hedge 8a3rs that " what we call the order of nature is but the
statement, in objective terms, of the limitation of our human experience,"
we appeal to the hint for a better definition, which is found in the sentence
at the head of page 287, '' if the truths which relate to the kingdoms of na-
ture come by inspiration, how much more the truths which relate to the
kingdom of heaven ! " As the divine intellect inspires the finite to develope
itselfi heaven's first law of order is restated by every province of nature, and
her modes of (^ration are perceived to be the projections of the mfinite
logic. No science is possible until the human intuition receives and trans-
mits the divine methods. Science could not live a single day, by analysis
and synthesis, by induction and deduction, by patient observation and Kep-
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72 The Radical.
lerian hypothesis, if the scientific intellect did not contain the divine cate-
gories which planned and uphold the universe. So that the " order of
nature," is a continual correction and amplification of the limitations of hu-
man experience by the higher modes of the human reason which are divin-
ers of God's creative methods. They descend into apparent disorder, and
rhythm and harmony commence. They disenchant all superstitions, let in
light and air to ventilate places which mystery has made unwholesome, and
nourish and refine our awe by disproving the exceptional. The Chimera
would have no chance at all, unless it had been originally a Hebrew one.
A Greek or a Vedaic improbability would not be worth trying to interpolate
into the consistent logic which appears in the unifonnity of nature. If we
hold no stock in a superstition we do not care to " bull the market," be-
cause, as Mr. Hedge justly remarks, "as a matter of external evidence to
be weighed in the balance of probabilities, the a priori presumption against
such fects outweighs any testimony that can be adduced in its support"
If so, and if its use exists no longer, let us not plague science to surmise or
to search for its possibility.
We anticipate that anotiier objection will be made against this minim-
izing the value and rank of miracles, by the more liberal thinkers, who will
ask why, if one rejects them entirely, must the ' whole history also be re-
jected, which contains the self-evident trutiis of Christianity. " Attempts
to prove the truth of Christianity are like attempts to prove the existence
of light. The light shines, and proves itself by shining This moral
light — the light of the Gospel — which shines into every soul that is willing
to receive it, and which makes our soul's day, — what can we say of it that
shall be so convincing as itself? " That is well said, to our hearty satisfac-
tion. The mbral light shines through all the obstructions of the narration,
notwithstanding the miracles which Mr. Hedge cannot receive, and side by
side with those which he retains. Add to or subtract from the miracles, and
this moral light would still shine to kindle the answering light in human
hearts. How can such history be undermined ? Only by annihilating the
moral and spiritual powers which receive its appeal Eliminate those from
man, and a miracle to every text could not save the record. Preserve
them, and the souPs vital spark leaps from truth to truth, across the spaces
filled by the miraculous, which separates and docs not combine. Mr,
Hedge himself shows that man's wit has no luting to bind the moral and
thauniaturgic.
[Here the Atiantic begins to risk some approbation, but omits the closing
paragraph which was perhaps too strong.]
It is a ripe and well-considered volume, admirable in treatment, extremely
efiective against all shades of evangelical speculation ; judged from its own
stand-point and within its limits, it is one of the best contributions of the
liberal school to the literature of the country. May the freedom of our im-
personal criticism stand commended to its magnanimous and genial author.
John Weiss.
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THE RADICAL.
•NOVEMBER, 1865.
DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON,
Minister of the Free Church at Lynn, Mass.
I.
PAST AND PRESEN.T.
IT is startling to reflect on ^at foiindadons the Christian Worid
is for the most part content to rest its Religious Assurance. Be-
liefs without which the soul is an orphan and idiotic, are held to
have no other valid guarantee then a revelation, conceived to have
been " supematurally " attested, at a certain epoch in ancient times.
The truth of what it most needs to find true concerning God, Duty,
Immortality, is staked upon the infallibility of a Book and the accu-
racy of a Tradition. Religion stands or falls with the miracles of
Jesus of Nazareth, as the *' Christ of God." Or in one way or another,
the certainties vital to spiritual being are transmuted into mere histori-
cal heirlooms — results of " instituted religion." They are not (it is
insisted) reached by natural organic processes of the soul, but fall
into it from without, through some supematurally gifted official Person
or Race. They are glimmers of reflected, secondary light. Christ-
ianity is a graft set in human nature by such Person and Race^ and
kept alive by their transmitted forces. The most popular Orthodox
preacher in America confesses that God is known to him only as an
impalpable efiluence from the person of Jesus. And a distinguished
theological professor of the Unitarian sect instructs his pupils that
their " idea of God is a Hebrew tradition ; " that " the Moral Law is
mere Judaism over again without its sanction ; " and that Religious
Belief must rest either " on the Bible or the Mathematics : " in other
words, that the only valid foundation for such Belief, as long as scientific
certainty is not attained, is an " authoritative record." He further inti-
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74 The Radical.
mates that such scientific certainty, however possible in the future,
cannot as yet be claimed. Nothing remains of course, but "the
authoritive record," as basis and guarantee for Belief. What this can
signify in one who has himself applied « free criticism to the record,
we do not now inquire. We take these and other statements as they
stand.*
This resolution of Religion into a Tradition, undeijnines its founda-
tions in the Spiritual Nature. What should we think of a mental phi-
losophy, which should affirm that we derive the consciousness of our
existence from the knowledge either that the Pilgrim Fathers believed
in theirs, or that the Anglo-Saxon race were positively assured of
theirs some centuries ago, or that our common ancestor Adam be-
lieved in his, beyond a possibility of doubt ? We all comprehend that
this consciousness is involved in the very structure of our being ; that
we accept our existence on the testimony of our rational faculties ; and
that any statement of the like consciousness by others, in past or
present time, appeals to our present experimce of the fact that we do
now exist, and could not even be apprehended at all by us, but for that
experience ; in a word, that the mental constitution is the ground of
this consciousness, and the veracity of our faculties our authority for
trusting it We are fully aware that to trace its origin in us to a mere
tradition from the Past would be to ignore the foundations of all
knowledge whatever.
Now our nature is spiritual as well as intellectual. Our Spiritual
Constitution perpetually bears witness of spiritual things. Relations
to God, to Duty, to Eternal Life, are involved in its very structure.
And so we have a spiritual consciousness of these relations as we have
a mental consciousness of our own existence : and all statements of
them, in past or present time, grow out of this structure and out of
* I am aware that this alternative was presented by its author, not absolutely, but
as the basis of preaching. But it must of course be maintained as the law of individ-
ual belief, or it fails as the law for the preacher. For why should human nature in
the pew be bound to receive truth on different grounds from human nature in the
pulpit ? Or how can a preacher honestly present *' the Bible or the Mathematics "
as the sole alternative authorities for belief before men, who yet rejects this dilemma
in his own consciousness, and finds a better sanction than either in his spiritual
intuitions ? Or is it proposed that the American Protestant Pulpit should assume
the Roman Catholic principle — count the people incapable of receiving the light
and liberty revealed to the learned, or of realizing the faith vouchsafed to the eccle-
siastical official — and so justify itself in preaching one philosophy of Authority and
believing another ! If we would not attribute to the author above quoted dispo-
sitions and imaginations like these, we must do him the justice to suppose that he
presented as the basis of preaching what he accepted as the basis of belie£
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Past and Present. 75
this consciousness, and appeal to this in us. They could not be
recognized as true but for their conformity to its experience. They
could not be certified but by the trustworthiness of the present testi-
mony of these organs or faculties which take cognizance of them.
They could not even be apprehended at all but for the present activity
of this living conscious Soul. Now when it is pretended that our
Ideas of God, Duty/Immortality, are a mere traditional effluence fi*om
the Hebrews, the Bible, or the face of Jesus, all this is ignored ; and
in this the primary Source of Religious Knowledge and the Founda-
tion of Religious Belief.
So plain are these truths, that it seems incredible they should ever be
overlooked by reflecting persons : so inevitable, that the very writers
we have quoted as insisting on the traditional nature of Religion and
Morality can be quoted as positively in other passages upon the other
side.
Whether the Bible is reliable, whether Jes^s was the express image
of God, whether the Hebrew religion was a divine interpolation
in the course of human history, are in part historical inquiries. But
the question as to the origin of our religious knowledge lies behind
these. It is not primarily a question of History, but of the laws and
facts of present consciousness. And this preliminary inquiry, which
underlies the whole dispute between a traditional and a spiritual
religion, is utterly neglected in the prevailing theologies, whose ten-
dencies are well indicated in the sentences I have quoted from their
leading representatives.
We must go far down to strike the root of this matter. Our Spirit-
ual Constitution is not a mere product of the Past No single act or
thought is so. Our conscious being, the force by which we think, feel,
remember, judge, is a present force. The Past accounts for nothing
beyond itself. For the continuance of our intelligence into the Present,
it was requisite that power should be added to the Past. Even if I
were at this moment precisely the same as I was in that immediately pre-
ceding it, I should be something more than the mere passive product of
this last How happens it that I did not end with this ? The bare fact of
my continuance proves an active principle in the Present as such. The
laws of my nature are alwajrs the same. Yet it would be absurd to
pretend that their activity to-day was a mere effect of their activity yes-
terday. Life is no such mere consequence of former life. It is a per-
manent fact ; and whether m past or present time, it is explicable only
as the product of a Force above itself, unceasingly active, unceasingly
present Even if we remained always the same, therefore, our Past
would not explain our Present. But we am not the same. Somewhat
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76 The Radical.
is incessantly added, since every instant sees changes, physical, intel-
lectual, moral, spiritual ; sees, in a word, growth. The Past cannot
account for these changes. It cannot by its own force produce what
is different from itself, still less, what is greater than itself. Develop-
ment cannot mean that a less thing can evolve a greater out of its
own resources. It might as well be said that the smaller of two circles
could contain the larger. Development means that the less thing serves
as condition and ground work for the influx of new and greater force,
whereby it is enabled to expand in the direction of its natural tenden-
cies. The Materialist imagines that the bodily organization creates
the soul ; that brain secretes thought out of its own substance ; that
divine poems and immortal discoveries are meat and drink transmu-
ted by chemical laws : in short, that there is an inherent capacity in the
less to produce the greater. We at least avoid this manifest absurdity,
when we affirm on the other hand, that brain and food are but the
means by which the higher Spiritual Nature can act upon the physical
world to the production of those higher results, out of its own ampler
force.
Now it is certainly not a whit more irrational to suppose that a
phosphate can of its own force grow into a hiunan brain, or a dead
fowl develop itself into a living epic, than to conceive that the Past
will explain the phenomenon of intellectual or spiritual growth. If a
superior thing seems to follow out of an inferior, it can only be through
the incoming of a capacity greater than either.
We say a tree springs from a seed. But we do not mean that the
little seed made the great tree. Of course the sun, the earth, the air,
all brought their tributes. The tree is the product of Nature, which
s greater than it, not of the seed, which is in all respects less. And
so our Present, which is always more than the Past, is not the passive
result of the past, but the effect of larger living forces.
Our Being is the present activity of Eternal Laws ; not resulting
from the Past, but from Power which resides at every point of time
and makes Past and Present alike. Our consciousness is the present
activity of our Being, and with whatever mcUerials our past experiences
may supply it, they do not in any sense create it
In part, indeed, we are historical products. Each event grows from
a preceding, as effect from cause. The whole Past, in mass and in
detail, is essential to the explanation of every moment's thought
and act There is no gulf between to-day and yesterday. And so
closely woven is the web of human history, that a higher Intelligence
might imroll from a single act our whole Past, as naturalists make a
flower or a fossil fragment tell the story of a life whereof it is the sole
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Past and Present. 77
remaining witness. But this covers only a part of the truth, and the
most superficial part We cannot be merely historical products, since
we are so made that we not only can, but do and must judge our Past
by the standard of the Present If the Present were but History
in sequel, a passive product of the Past, how could this, its creator, be
subject to its measurements and criticbms ? Can the clay vessel take
the potter to task ? How could we say of deeds and experiences gone
by, this was great and that little ? How could we judge, as we do,
not by what we have been, but by what we are I We do so simply be-
cause the present instant is the point where sight resides^ whence the light
proceeds by which we see.
And though a higher Intelligence might unroll the history of our
lives, simply by following effects back to causes, it would not prove the
contrary of what we affirm ; since it would be possible only through the
recognition and full comprehension of instant perpetual forces, with-
out which no antecedent influence could become what we commonly
call a cause. To ignore these unfathomed Powers, which makes every
event a fresh mystery, past our solution, is to leave out the life of our
life.
We say then that the Past provides the material on which the Present
must work; the conditions to which its fresh inspiration must be
measurably subject ; the soil into which its seeds must fall. No one»
most assuredly, can withdraw from the historic chain. No one can
break away from his Past He must start to-day from the point to
which it has brought him, and from no other. But does this ex-
clude fresh intellectual invigorations ? Rather are these essential to
the very continuance of intellectual motion.
And if such be the conditions of Mental Life in general, they are
eminently essential to that Spiritual Activity,^ which is Mind under its
Religious As^ct
Religion b the profoundest fact of our Nature. Relations to God,
to Duty, to Immortality, are its vital, ^ructurai relations : and the
higher his development, the more fully does Man realize that in them
he lives and moves and has his being. 'Hxat Instant Force whereof
we have been speaking, from which continuance, growth, s^ht, pro^
ceed, the Source of pennanent law, and successive nvovemient, and
causal relation, and momentary spiritual suj^ly, of past and present
alike, — to the Religious Nature, is^ God, His immediate and instant
Sovereignty is identical with that of the Moral Laws whereto the.
correlative fact in Man is IhUy, His' dearest gift, equally immediate
and instant, foundation of human joy, patience, faith,, oi growttv» d^
nity, power, the crown and glory of our Nature^ i^ ImimrMity\
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78 The Radical.
Now it is these perpetual organic structural Realities, the conscious-
ness whereof, if the prevailing statements of doctrine be true, is the
mere result of Tradition ! It is these Realities, whose constant force
can no more be ignored than the fact of our existence, and which
must have spoken in all men and all ages, somehow, to that human
intelligence which is their creature, — it is these that are affirmed to
be practically known to us only through the Bible, " the Christ," the
Hebrew race I
I know it will be replied that this is affirmed only of their highest
forms ; of the Idea of a personal^ parental God ; of a perfect Moral
Order ; of an Immortality which is Eternal Life, But this is to com-
mit the error in the worst possible form and to the greatest possible
extent These Ideas are the utmost crown of religious conviction ; to
every believing soul a wonder and joy that bears witness of sweetest
and closest union with the very Source of its being. Is it of these
experiences especially that such intimate union is to be denied ? If
even these, which, as our best, should be most deeply rooted in our
Nature, and which indeed show themselves so at one with its needs,
so at home in it, that they alone can supremely bless and divinely in-
spire it, — if even these are in no vital and organic relation with it,
but are the special bequest of a single race, a single book, a single
official person, — what place in Human Nature can belong to lower
forms of belief in God, Duty, Immortality, which have shown compar-
atively little power to bring out its capacity of growth and joy? Nay
— the Religious Sentiment or Faculty itself can be nothing but an
alien and exotic in the soul, if its most cordial recognitions and inti-
macies therein are mere traditional echoes, having no root in the living
Spiritual Constitution. But if the Religious Sentiment be not a per-
manent organic fact in Human Nature as such, to what can these
traditions make appeal, by what can they be apprehended ? And so
the very foundations of Belief are swept away.
The limitation of Religious Ideas to a narrow, arbitrary, extra-natu-
ral origin in the Past in proportion to the breadth of their relation to
Human Nature, and the grandeur of their power within it, is but a
consequence of the notion that the Spiritual Constitution and Con-
sciousness are the mere creation of the Past
On the contrary, the highest forms of belief are precisely what prove
these to be primarily a present Inspiration.
Let us state more distinctly what we may concerning the sources of
spiritual Light
Two views may be noted. The one is that Religious Belief is no-
wise related to the Past, but an entirely new creation, owing nothing
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Past and Present. 79
to antecedent persons or institutions. In order to receive Divine
Influence, the soul must be swept clear of all prior influences, and a
great gulf separate the Present from the Past : or rather there is no
longer a Past A few enthusiasts in almost every age have held, or
seemed to hold, this extreme notion of inspiration. The Christian
Church has, in general, held it to be true of Jesus, as the supernatural
Founder of Christianity, and of him only. The other view is the
exactly opposite one, that Religious Belief is in no sense due to the
Present : that its * new birth ' is but the result of a more vital enei^
effected by traditional Christianity. Here is properly no gulf between
the Present and Past There is properly no Present at all. God, the
Divine Life, Spiritual Influence, are, so far as their direct access to
the human soul is concerned, concentrated in a sacred locality in a
remote age. If we look toward the Future, we are warned that we are
turning the back upon all these. If we look up to the heavenly signs
of Present Duty and Promise, we are informed that this is to follow
our fallible selves and not the Word of God. Instead of being swept
clear of all prior influences, the soul must be swept clear of all present
ones. There is no living God, only the reflected image of a God who
appeared once for all in the face of Jesus. This is substantially the
view of the churches concerning the origin of Religious Belief in all
persons except of course Jesus himself, and his immediate disciples.
Here are the extremes. The one view denies God in the Present,
the other denies him in the Past. Both fail of the truth that he be-
longs alike to Past, Present, and Future. For the soul is open to Him
not through the channels of Traditions alone, not through its own
present Spiritual Consciousness alone, but through both of these.
But the far greater error of the two is that which denies God in the
Present ; for this strikes at the very source of Inspiration, the other
only at certain methods and means thereof.
Our spiritual possessions are indeed the issue of our whole Past.
" The Child is Father of the Man." We are all the offspring of a his-
torical Providence, which weaves every strand of thought and act into
the fabric of our life. There is no gulf between Past and Present.
No new force can do more than modify the existing state of our char-
acters, as our past lives have formed these, of our opinions as our
education has made them. All Divine Influence must take its sub-
ject where he stands. It can have no other point of support, no other
material to work in, than the actual status of the soul and the world.
It must root itself in a soil prepared for it. The celestial gift that is
to transfigure life falls not into a void, but into actual human condi-
tions, as sunshine and rain bring vigor to waiting seeds. The Re-
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former and the Prophet work out the better future by dealing with the
practical issues transmitted from the Past These are their levers to
lift the age above itself. Their Inspiration of Insight and Power
grows by conflict with inherited hindrance and use of garnered help
— and there is no other way in which they can grow.
There is nothing useless in human education — nothing that could
be thrown out The Guiding Hand never needs undo its work and
begin again. There is no call to change any one into an absolutely
new creature, were the thing possible. The old thread of sequence is
adequate. We are bom into the inheritance as into the tender guar-
dianship of the Past ; and what one is, he never could have been but
for its teaching, whether he be Prophet, Messiah, Archangel, or but a
common child of Adam's race. When the churches pretend that the
Hebrews owed nothing to the races that preceded them, or that Jesus
was independent of earlier teachers, thus taking him out of the natural
hbtoric sequence, they deny an inviolable law. Inspiration is condi-
tioned on preparation. Had Jesus denied this, he would have stood
his own living refutation, his feet on the very sod, his lungs breathing
the very air, he refused to recognize. And he did not deny it
But none the less true is it that Inspiration is fresh instantaneous
force — that it does fall into the actual material of life which the Past
has provided. None the less true is it that the Power which gives
efficacy to this material, which transforms it into somewhat better,
which yields the light whereby we read and judge our past selves, and
all traditional beliefs, is in the Present ; send this not for Jesus only,
but for all men ; that Religious Knowledge rests on the immediate
Presence of the Infinite Fountain of Truth. None the less certain is
it that Truth is not something gone by, and held in memory alone,
but the Reality that waits now to be seized — waits to be felt and
earned and used ; and that only as it is thus accepted as a vitalizing
Presence, it is turned into Religious Life. The difference between a
traditional or dead, and a spiritual or living faith, is, that in the one
case there is as little as possible, in the other, as much as possible, of.
this fresh and vital apprehension of Truth.
Without somewhat of this fresh communication, it is impossible for
even the commonest conceptions of God, Duty, Immortality, to be
transmitted at all. Even the traditionalist cannot import them as so
much dead material out of the Past There must be always more or
less of new-created light and life put into them, to preserve and bear
them on. This wanting, the substance has flitted, the poor starved
soul hugs but its shadow. Only in proportion as beliefs are ever new-
bom by being newly earned and newly appreciated, can they be said
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Past and Present. &i
to retain any force as beliefs, or indeed, to possess any meaning what-
ever. Their salt is in their present uses. They are a manna that
will not keep over night How the dead husks of creeds that once
meant heroism, piety, martyrdom, progress, have buried sleeping
churches in their decay ! Even if beliefs were mere ideas, notions,
propositions only, they could not live a nurdy traditional life. The
memory would not hold them in that way. The understanding would
not take account of their existence. But the substance of your beliefis
is quite other and nobler than a notion or a proposition. It is the joy,
reverence, strength, peace, they bring. And these could never come
from the Past All the depths of yoiu* being cry out against such a pre-
tense. An Idea of God or of Duty is not a religious Belief^ so long
as it is without these : it is but a form of words. And baptised m t?use^
it is no tradition, either Hebrew or other. Was the holy wrath of
Isaiah a tradition ? Or was the tender pity of Jeremiah, or the trust
of him who sang, " The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want ? " Was
Paul's zeal for liberty and righteousness a tradition ? Was the piety
of Tauler and Fenelon, was the enthusiasm of Joan of Arc a tradi-
tion ? Were Raffaelle's San-Sisto Mother and Child, was Milan Ca-
thedral, was Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, a tradition ? Was Fox' s
Inward Light, was Parker's pure Theism a tradition ? Was American
Abolitionism, was John Brown at Harper's Ferry a tradition? Is
Prayer a tradition — living, earnest Prayer ? Or is the daily flow of
that spiritual content, that ** takes the manna of to-day," assured
that the strength shall ever be as the need, and so lives with the dear
all-sufficiency of the Father's love, above fear and above regret — is
this a tradition ? There is but one answer to these questions. Dare
not call any man's sacred conviction concerning God or the Moral
Law a Hebrew tradition, or a reflection from the face of Jesus. The
Eternal Reality stands within him in no such vicarious and simulated
way. Beliefs are Inspirations. They are not by hearsay, they are Sight
Still more undisceming is it, if possible, to place the Sanction of
Belief in Traditional Authority of whatsoever kind. Every such
authority breaks down before advancing criticism. The Infallibility
of the Church has had its death-blow from its own hands — the In-
fallibility of the Bible at the hands of Science, moral and physical.
The defenders of an authoritative text are reduced to attempts at tor-
turing its meaning mto conformity with science, or else at wresting
science into harmony with its letter — in both cases, unsuccessfully ;
and in both suicidally, since in bpth is assumed the right of human
intelligence to discuss and decide the meaning of the record. The
Infallibility of Jesus falls with that of the Bible, through whose report
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82 The Radical.
alone we know his words and acts. Or if we accept the record as it
stands the result is the same. Or if, again, the language of Jesus, as
therein recorded, concerning demonic possession or his second com-
ing, be interpreted so as to remove the imputation of error, we are
again thrown back upon the difficulty that an authority has been as-
simied in ourselves, beyond the record and outside his person, to de-
cide between the different meanings. In every resort, the present asserts
its ultimate and final jurisdiction over all forms of traditional authority.
And tradition is, in its very nature, inadequate to meet the require-
ments of a sanction for religious belief. It is wavering, dubious, sub-
ject to all forms of human frailty, and all modes of casual degeneracy
and corruption. The chain of historical evidence has always too many
weak or broken links ; and to follow it back is past the power of the
simple. Then its enslavement of the mind is fatal. For where liberty
is abdicated in order to reach certainty, that certainty has no legitimate
foundation in the moral or spiritual, any more than in the intellectual
nature, being received into an abnormal and unnatural status.
Quite otherwise is belief authenticated, to the simple and the free ;
— by commending itself to the spiritual consciousness as right and
needful and beneficent And this sanction is that of the living, pre-
sent Soul.
This, then, we affirm. Not the body only, but the spirit, has or-
gans of sight They are made to look on the essential facts of the
spiritual world directly, as the bodily eyes are made to look upon the
physical. It is because they are seen in this intuitive or direct way,
that God, Duty, Immortality, cannot be proved logically beyond ques-
tion to the understanding. You have no means of proving that the
outward world exists. You are made to see and feel, not to prove it
In fact, it does not exist in the way that you are trying to prove it as
existing — as a distinct, material, comprehensible entity. It exists
for you as it stands in your intuition, and in no other way ; and the
more you try to go behind that, the more unreal and questionable it
becomes. Stand by your intuition, and you are sure. So with these
spiritual facts, and the intuitions which reveal them. They have al-
ways been so revealed, in all ages, to all men ; yet with more or less
obscurity while the spiritual organs are immature. But the soul
grows, and the spiritual world becomes steadily clearer, by laws as
natural as those which make the trained eye, see better than the un-
trained. The organs become purer by inward processes of moral
culture, and read deeper and diviner meanings. They demand a
fuller confidence from the soul, and they deserve it ; till at last, purged
by serious thought and esunest self-control and prayerful contempla-
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Past and Present. 83
tion, the soul beholds convictions and knows them to be certainties,
as a child knows its mother's fiace. They are known to be true by
the intimate way in which they penetrate the moral being, and show
themselves at home and adequate to meet its profoundest wants and
loftiest desires. Is it incomprehensible that this should be so ? It
would be infinitely more incomprehensible that it should not be so.
Has God made the soul for His Truth, and shall it have no organs by
which to recognize Truth ? Has He made the individual conscience
to feel more solemnly its responsibility to Truth, the nobler its de-
velopment, and yet, provided no surer way for it to walk in than
the uncertain testimony of tradition ? There are those who will ac-
cept even this improbability, maintaining that there b nowhere any
such thing as certainty. When they will explain to us how, on their
theory, they can maintain anything, even that they are not certain, we
can listen to their acceptance of things incredible. And there are
those who think there may be certainty in an " authoritative record "
and in the science of mathematics, but find no such authority in spir-
itual intuitions. To these we would reply, that the Soul, which judges
the record and finds the mathematical axiom true, declares thereby
that it possesses within itself a power of authenticating spiritual be-
liefSs, which may be found and unfolded. The Soul is of more value
than many Bibles and many sciences. Better disparage them than it
But why disparage either?
Yes, there are spiritual organs, spiritual Intuitions. Freedom, Rev-
erence, Love, purify these, and exalt their insight Science scatters
the mists and false lights that distort their objects. The £temal
Presence illumines and invigorates them through inward disciplines
and pure affinities with truth thereby made effectual — and deceives
not the eye He has made, the heart He has bidden to seek Him.
Herein we must find the sanction for our Religious Beliefs. There
is no other so reliable, so primary. Men appeal to the authority of
numbers, of age, of usage, of character. , But these are only measiu--
ably, superficially, provisionally accepted. Forever the Soul stands
behind in the shadow, judging the judges, reading the records, choos-
ing as its moral and intellectual state compels. There, where final
jurisdiction inheres and must inhere, the ground of positive certainty,
however imperfectly attained by men in general, must somehow exist.
There must somehow be discoverable the accesses of absolute Truth.
Spiritual organs, spiritual intuitions in the individual soul, are the
first postulate of a Positive Faith.
The highest idea of God is not a " Hebrew Tradition." The less
cannot produce the greater ; a tradition can never be the father of an
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inspiration. The very existence of the Religious Sentiment is called
in question, however unintentionally, by such a supposition. Nor is
the Moral Law " mere Judabm over again, without its sanction." Mor-
ality is immutable, and its sanction is in every process and every ex-
perience of every living soul that Gk)d has made. To forget or dis-
parage this its natural and necessary validity, is to impeach its sove-
reignty. Nor does our alternative, in matters of Religious Authority,
lie between the Bible and the Mathematics ; in other words, between
the intellectual certainties of Science and the traditional worship of a
Book. Is there, then, nothing between these to answer to the im-
speakably near and dear name of Religious Assurance ? Is piety
either these or nothing ? Do the Eternal Love and Will reach our
souls in these ways, and in these only ? And are Duty and Immor-
tality, that stand so solemnly face to face with us every moment, and
that will so stand forever, the echoes of an ancient communication to
a few Hebrews, or else a scientific demonstration ? Is it either by
logic or else by Judabm that they approve their right to command
our allegiance, as motives of conduct ? Not so do they come to heart
and conscience. We shall not believe that any thoughtful mind stakes
its faith in the Eternal on the truth of the tale of Samson and the
traditions that Lazarus and Jesus came back from death to life. Nor
shall we consent to construct Religion out of the understanding alone.
To ignore spiritual intuition and devout feeling, as sanctions of belief,
is to cut oflf the top of the brain or to crush it down into the cerebel-
lum. No statements of the Philosophy of Faith can stand approved
before the consciousness pf an enlightened age, which^ oscillating be-
tween Bibliolatry and Positive Science, find no place for spiritual
sight Such statements are indeed, as has been said, decisively con-
tradicted by the very lips that framed them. But not the less mis-
chievous are they for that rei^n ; rather the more. Let the trumpet
give no uncertain sound
We may lean across the ages up4»a J«6us and the Bible for the help
of their divine lessons. All helpful souls and books will retain their
own dear and needful power. But let it he remembered that the pri-
mal sources of our strength cannot lie in lives which have needed their
Past to lean ofi as truly as w^ need ours. A^^ wil/ you find the
fountam-head by f$U&wing back the traditions. There were aposties for
the early churches, and thei^^ was a Jesus for Paul and John. But
there was also an Isaiah for J^sus, a Moses for the Prophets, an Egypt
for Moses, and for Egypt, what vast traditional deep that you will never
penetrate ! You come back, and recall to mind that there never lived
i>n earth one heroic and Jtiojy soul into whose labors you have not en-
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Saadi's Thinking. 85
tered. Let it be remembered that what we owe to the Past, we owe
not to one Bible, Church, Messiah, Race, but to every hair-breadth*
fraction of the Past Its robe was seamless, and every thread was
needed for the tissue.
But not there the Fountain-head ; not there the morning of the spirit ;
not thence its viewless wind. Not there, but Here! Not then, but
Now I We may lean across the ages upon Jesus if we will, but we are
stirred to upright manhood only by the countenance of the Living
Spirit — by the present conscience and the joyfulness of present work ;
by each living, breathing Gospel, who stands to-day as hope and com-
fort and inspiration of a world in travail with the kingdom of God.
SAADI'S THINKING.
BT JOHN WEISS.
Such a noon as Thought has made 1
In my soul no spot of shade ;
Least and greatest lying plain,
Hope of mystery was vain.
Like a savage creature's scent.
To its game my daylight went;
Water hid beneath the sod
Sooner 'scapes divining-rod.
All day staring like a noon
Sight must hie to shelter soon ;
From the drooping lid must creep
Forth the outer edge of sleep.
As I lose my perfect gaze,
And the headlands gather haze.
Blushes through the clearness creep,
Showing it is also deep.
And my thought returns to me.
Like the diver from a sea,
Purpled with the shells he had, —
Tired and faint, but purple-clad.
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86 The Radical.
Falls to dreaming all the sky,
Stirred by thoughts less palpably, —
Noontide broken into stars,
Vision checked by twilight bars*
Would you m)rstery receive,
And in miracle believe,
Wading out until some sea
Lifts the heart and sets it free, —
Then let Thought be shod with air,
Put on daylight for its wear —
Colorless and limpid laws:
In them stars and twilights pause.
CONCERNING ENEMIES.
THE intuitions of the soul are ever right. They are quick to
catch whatever voice does even whisper of a nobler humanity.
So that when an elevating word is spoken, even though it be
far in advance of any prevailing thought, and seem utterly destitute of
any practical value, the soul clings to it, sure that in some manner it
will one day be known to be the word of God.
The world may sneer at the enthusiast seeking to embody it in his
life. Such a man is ever at the mercy of the world's bustling, thorough-
going, common sense. He might do for some other world. He is
not fit for this. He is assailable from every quarter. He has no de-
fence. All men will plunder him. What is his love ? Who cares for
it ? How will he make his way in the world ?
But humanity comes down from this high ridicule and worldly wis-
dom, to bow, as the years and the centuries roll by, before this same
strange Man with a homage almost, yes, altogether worshipful. His
words remain and cannot be forgotten. Suppose he should say. Love
yoiu* enemies, it is a fact that the man never lived who did not secretly
applaud every noble forgiveness of enemies. And we never forgive
except there be love at the bottom prompting forgiveness.
The world has always some one of its hundred eyes in search of what-
ever is practical. It says, There are practical people, and people who
are visionary. This business of life must be regulated by common
sense. Stand on the earth, silly man. Keep out of the air. If
God had meant you for the air, he would have given you wings.
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Concerning Enemies. 87
Thb is well said. We do want to be practical We do want to
stand on the earth, most of us, as long as possible. And if Nature
thinks us complete without wings, so let it be. Nature is most wise.
But the world must remember, for it has the advantage of a long
experience, that what we call our common sense, often proves the
veriest nonsense, and our great wisdom, great folly. And concerning
such people as are said to be sailing through the air on pinions of
their own invention, it frequendy turns out that no people were stand-
ing on the earth so firmly as they. The " visionaiy " is often the most
practical man alive. His visions are realities. It is well to keep
this in mind, though we cannot yet see the reality, or guess the
riddle.
Now it is very certain that we should all aim at being practical ;
that is, our theories of life should be such as can be put into use, se*
curing the greatest good, not only to the greatest number, but to all.
This is a plain, practical, conservative statement No one will
gainsay it Our business is to discover the perfect way and walk in it
But before we continue this thought further, we will look at
our present condition, that we may see and better understand what
capital we have invested ; then can we more intelligently devise the
ways and means.
Our ignorance can never long be our bliss. AVe are haunted with
the eternal why ? and wherefore ? and a long journey and hard toil are
before us. We feel how incomplete we are ; how much we have yet
to gain. And each one goes on, making such headway as he can, or
none ; but sometimes making the most when he suspects that he does
not and cannot make any, and is thinking that he shall soon give out
If we do a good thing to-day, or feel very strong and hopeful, and have
a faith that could remove all the mountains in the world, the next
day we are down, — weak, hopeless, faithless creatures, — and it seems
a wonder that such people were ever bom. Surely providence must
have made some egregious blunder. There is nothing under heaven
left for us, but a terrible fit of the blues.
Such is our life : up and down. It would be a sad thing if this
were all of life. I think every such downfall of the soul must have
its rebound, till at last it reaches heights where it can sustain itself in
the heavens, beyond the power of the earth's attraction. We are all
growing, but up two of us are growing just alike, or together. This
is our condition. Some are on one plane, some on another. Our
experiences are all different, our native talent is meted out in varying
or unequal measure. Is it to be wondered at that we do not always
understand each other ?
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88 The Radical.
Now this misunderstanding of each other, and of ourselves also, is
more frequent, more constant than we know. And to this fact can be
traced, as to a source, our many troubles, our little personal encoun-
ters, the evils that affect the community and endanger the peace of the
state; our great national troubles. Had the South understood
itself and known what was actually for its own good ; had it understood
the North, and the growth of its anti-slavery conscience ; had it seen
that to get just such a conscience was its own imperative need, its only
hope for salvation ; think you the ambition of Jefferson Davis could
have led it to so hopeless an encounter on so many bloody fields ?
And Davis himself, had he known and understood his real interests,
would never have been president of a Southern Confederacy. fVis-
dom would have dictated a higher ambition. It was not a practical
thing for him, to make enemies of twenty million of freemen,
backed by the intelligence and moral power of this nineteenth
century. Surely he and all his adherents were our misguided breth-
ren of the South. They did not understand that even Wendell Phil-
lips was their most faithful friend. They do not understand this
fact yet
When we look through the whole economy of human nature to under-
stand the full scope of human life, there appears no reason what-
ver why we should have enemies, or be enemies ourselves ; but every
reason why we should all be friends. Even from a cold, calculating,
selfish view, the arguments all appear on this side.
The interests of each individual are the interests of the whole com-
munity. And the interests of the whole community are the interests
of each individual. In a large sense this is true. If I am wise,
though I have no heart, I shall be most scrupulous in all my conduct ;
for every temporary gain, snatched by the least dishonesty, cuts me
off from a more lasting good. Injustice undermines, Justice estab-
lishes. Wronging another to right one's self is a trick of Satan. This
is so because there is no such thing as chance or luck in the world.
All is Fate ; which is another way of saying, there is no choice or
freedom outside of God*s will. The very fact of existence settles
this question. AVhatever thing exists, by virtue of its being, is
subject to a law controlling its condition at the present, and all its
future. Man has volition, we say. But not to get outside the law
of his nature. That holds him with an iron grasp. •'If he acts in
harmony with that law, it is well with him at once. If he does not,
he must sufier till he does.
The law of our social compact is uprightness \ the sure rendering
of equivalents. As he who lives in a glass house must not throw
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Concerning Enemies. 89
stones, so the safe, practical way, is not to practice on others the
trick that may be re-practiced upon you. AH of which means, *^ hon*
esty is the best policy."
If we have an enemy, therefore, who invades whatever right, oor
real interest is to teach him this lesson. He is ignorant as well as
selfish. If you cannot change his selfish nature at once, you must
seek to turn that selfishness into a more enMghtened channel. It
must flow in with the great stream which flows on to equal fortune.
AVhen you have benefited him, you have done a very practical thing for
yourself. If you leave him stupid, and blind as to what is really his best
theory and practice in life, while you go on to curse him, that will be
damning yourself. The way to destroy your enemy is to convert
him.
But now I discover that this is not loving our enemy, but loving
ourselves. Let us ascend to higher ground.
Carlyle says of his hero, Frederick the Great, " He had no time to
have enemies, he had too much else to do." This would certainly be
an enviable situation for any man. Let one's time be so occupied in
doing whatever task hath been sent, and he hath found to do, that
enemies do not even disturb hb dreams. I think enemies would get
weary and cease to trouble us, if we, for such reason as the great
Frederick had, let them severely alone. No time to attend to them ?
Might not the example tell upon them ?
But moreover, it was all a mistake when I supposed I had an enemy.
A mere supposition, which the facts will disprove. I have not an en-
emy on the earth, when the whole story is told. " Does a man re-
proach thee," says that great moralist, Epictetus, " for being proud
or ill-natured, envious or conceited, ignorant or detracting ? Consider
with thyself whether his reproaches are true. If they are not, con-
sider that thou art not the person whom he reproaches^ but that he
reviles an imaginary being and perhaps loves what thou realiy arty
though he hates what thou appearest to be. If his reproaches are true^
if thou art the emnouSy ill-natured man he takes thee for, give thyself
another turn, become miidy affable^ and obliging, and his reproaches of
thee naturally cease."
Here we catch the spirit which annihilates our enemy. He is not
to be found when we completely disarm him of the causes which
array him against us. Either he is mistaken in us, or we are really
exhibiting unlovable qualities to him. If he is mistaken, than he
deserves no censure. If he is not mistaken, then should we take a
new turn, as Epictetus has it, and mend. If he judges us from a low
standard, then his judgment and his action are according to the stand-
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90 The Radical.
ard he has, and we should not quarrel with him, but seek to lift him
to a higher plane of life, where, gaining broader vision^ he would also
gain a larger heart and Icindlier feeling.
And herein do we love him, for the possibilities that are his ; for
the good that slumbers within him. It is that you do not let any
appearances deceive you. Beneath all this outside show of depravity
there dwells the real man made in God's own image. You are to
love that Not from compulsion ; for it is true that our feelings are
not ours to control. We like or dislike as we see beauty or deformity.
It is the external object that awakens the emotion and controls it
But the meanest man that treads the earth this day, or since it was
made has walked upon it, Caligula, Nero, Judas, Haynau of Aus-
tria, Davis of America — who has committed the unpardonable
crime, if any ever was committed — has a soul! Behind all this
rough, warring passion, this terrible selfishness, which does not scruf
pie to wade or even swim through blood for a throne, there still
abides the soul 1 Yea, there in that prison house of hell, with its
walls like the walls of that old prison of the Inquisition closing in on
every side, sits in silence and in chains, waiting the hour that cometh
for deliverance, the Son of God !
This fact alone gives any hope for the future ; the certainty of a
soul within each one of us which will one day get a voice to speak
only what is true, what is just, what is kind. If it were not for this
redeeming power of the soul every one might as well close the book
and pray God if he had any mercy, or one single atom of love left, he
should forge that into a thunderbolt and relieve us from this burden
of life. There is no pleasure in the thought of continued existence,
when you take away the accompanying thought of continued aspira-
tion to new attainments. We may not remember the past, but must
forgive each other as we forgive ourselves, nay more, forgive each other
a long way into the future, saying, when we receive injury, " He would
not do thus if he had the sanity of a larger experience, and the larger
soul as the result : which experience and soul he will have, — whether
in a hundred or a thousand years hence, it matters not — since it is
certain. I look beyond ; time has vanished. Eternity makes a thou-
sand years as one day. I greet him with love ! "
It does not follow from this that we are relieved from all severity in
our treatment ; I only assert the spirit which will naturally breathe its
life into our action. It will be in no sense revengeful. If you must
use the surgeon's knife it will be drawn as tenderly as though you were
passing it through your own quivering flesh. And the very love you
cherish will forbid you to shrink from the task. The dwarf wandered
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The LojTd's Supper. 91
a long time in King Arthur's court before any one for love or pity
would strike off his head. At last the friendly blow was given, the
dwarf vanished, and a royal knight uprose to shower blessings upon
his deliverer. Thus a blow may be given for pure love and friendship's
sake. It is not the man of to-day we love or can love. He is the
sham, the falsehood, the usurper ! When he makes oath, " I am Lord,"
such oath has no validity. It is impeached in the higher courts of
heaven. And he, this man of to-day, like an old garment that is shed,
passeth away to destruction, but the death or the suffering is only new
birth into diviner life. And knowing this, pain and death lose all
their sting.
Let us think over this matter, and be not too sure that when we
condemn and throw away the casket, it does not contain a jewel. We
cannot afford to run much risk. We shall not run any when we re-
member what is the chief inquiry to be made concerning every one :
To what destiny hath God launched the soul ?
THE LORD'S SUPPER.
THIRD PAPER. — FFS CORRUPTION.
IN the Lord's Supper, as celebrated by the apostles, there were two
essentia] characteristics, two elements which time would natiually
separate. There was the solemn, religious element, which stands
almost alone in the modem Communion, and there was the social, festive
element, which was so prominent in the primitive ** Breaking of Bread.''
Two such characteristics could hardly be maintained in equipoise. The
tendency was, as is seen in the Corinthian church, to excessive conviviality.
To check this, how natural that the leaders should somewhat exaggerate, as
Paul seems to have done, the solemnity of the occasion. And, to go a step
farther, how natural that, finding the festive tendency so strong, and so in-
compatible with the new and growing sense of sacramental awe, the two
elements should be sundered, and two new institutions take the place of the
primitive one. Such is the historical fact At the close of the Apostolic age,
though precisely when and how we are not informed, a supper called the
Agape, or Love Feast, was instituted. In this, all the social and fesiive char-
acteristics of the Lord's Supper were preserved, with none of its ceremonial
and solemn observances. At the same time, the Lord's Supper, stripped
of its familiar and convivial characteristics, became the centre around which
clustered all that the church [)ossessed of the mysterious and the sacramen-
tal Just as a tree, dividing its trunk, shoots out into two opposing branches,
so the Lord's Supper, ceasing to be itself^ branches into Eucharist and
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Agape, opposite, if not antagonistic manifestations. The Lord's Supper (so
called) was no longer a supper at all. The Bishop dispensed a taste of
bread and wine to the communicants ; whereas before, the disciples had fiami-
liarly helped themselves and one another from a common table. Its natural,
human part was all handed over to the Love Feast The service was de-
nominated, first the Eucharist, then the Mystery, and at length, it was
spoken of as the " Dreadful Sacrifice." From this time forth the original
and beautiful Christian Communion, the simple Lord's Supper, or Breaking
of Bread, disappears for ever from among men. It is im[)ossible not to be
touched by the loss of one of the most natural and charming observances
that ever was celebrated among religious rites. But the past cannot be re-
called. It is not given to us to raise the dead.
As I have suggested, the Lord's Supper became, almost at once, a M)rste-
ry. There is a passion for the mysterious, the dark, the enigmatical, and
there is a wide-spread feeling that religious rites should represent thenu
In the Classics, we come upon sacred mysteries, the chief of which was the
Eleusinian. We can trace them back to Egypt They were very impos-
ing, and oftentimes very inspiring. In our day we sometimes get a kindred
impression from solemn theatrical representations ; though since the Re-
formation there has been little attempt to set forth the truths of religion on
the stage. The Classic Mysteries were designed for the benefit of the cul-
tivated few who were supposed to be able to rise above the gross idolatry
of the masses, and contemplate the grand teachings and sentiments of
Theism. To the early Christians, the Eucharist, separated from the social
Agape, offered a rare opportunity of connecting the charm of mysteries with
the hitherto child-like Christianity. So the Eucharist became the Mass.
As in the Classic Mysteries only, the select few participated, as the candi-
dates were admitted only after careful preparatory discipline and purification,
so only they were admitted to the celebration of the Mass who had been
regularly prepared for it by baptism and a course of instruction in doctrines.
The candidates were called Catechumens ; and there were in attendance
upon ordinary Christian worship the Heathen or world's people, the Cate-
chumens or candidates, and the holy Communicants. Only the latter were
allowed so much as to be prissent as spectators at the dreadful sacrifice.
The Eucharist, feirly separated from the Agape, was transferred from the
evening to the conclusion of the morning service. The congregation was
dismissed ; and from the fact that all except the initiated were sent out of
the church, the service received the name of Mass, a corrupted form of the
Latin word used in the dismissal. Even Protestant Communions cannot
rid themselves to-day of the character of a secret society which the church
thus acquired.
After three or four centuries, the Mass stood alone, the Love Feast hav-
ing been suppressed. The social element separated from the religious could
expect little favor in a church rapidly growing in asceticism. It is said that
gross abuses were the immediate occasion of putting it down. The " kiss of
charity," and the familiar intercourse cherished in primitive days, had sadly
degenerated and t>ecome the occasion of scandal. The social supper was,
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The Lord's Supper. 93
however, not suppressed until it had first died a natural death. It was
smothered by the Mass, which could tolerate no rival. The original insti-
tution was completely subverted. A public and stately sacrifice had usurp-
ed the place of the quiet supper of dear friends. The words : " This is
my body," " This is my blood,"" words which when pronounced by Jesus
had so true and touching a meaning, had come to be taken in a gross, literal
sense, so that Jesus was offered afresh, a vicarious sacrifice, at each cele-
bration. Partly through fear of spilling a drop of the real blood of Christ,
and partly, perhaps, in the interest of the Priesthood, the wine was with-
held from the laity, the communicants receiving only the consecrated wafer
from the hand of the officiating priest
With the Reformation, efforts were made to revive the primitive supper.
But it was impossible ; for the thoughts and circumstances of men had, in
the course of fourteen hundred years, undergone great changes. How often
we talk of reviving the old, and how impossible it b ever to do so ! I do
not know that history furnishes us a single instance of an ancient ceremony
in religion, political custom, or style of art being reinstated after having be-
come obsolete. The world may move spirally, and come round to resem-
blance, but it does pot move in circles. The reformers might restore '^ the
Communion in both kinds," but whoshoiild restore the primitive spirit which
made the apostolic ^* Breaking of bread " so sweet and beautiful. Luther
and his coadjutors imagined, no doubt, that they were living over again the
very primitive Christianity ; but we can see plainly enough that they were
far firom doing so. The reformers did not go back far enough to escape a
sacrificial theology. Of necessity, therefore, they celebrated a sacrificial
Communion. The Evangelical churches look upon the bread and wine as
in no wise the food of a social Christian supper, but as altogether symbolical.
With the Protestant it is not the Mass, an actual sacrifice, but it is the
symbol of a sacrifice. The Romanist professes to bring before you, by mir-
acle, the real thing ; while the Protestant professes only to give you a dra-
matic representation. It may not have occurred to the Evangelicals that it
is so, but is not their Communion essentially theatrical ? Does it not aim
by the mere appearance to excite emotions due to the real ? I am not dis-
cussing the legitimacy of such a proceeding ; I wish now simply to state the
fact
Modem liberal sects have renounced a sacrificial theology ; but they have
inconsistently retained a sacrificial Communion. According to the theology
of the liberals, the Lord's Supper should be purely commemorative — and
not of a sacrifice, or of a martyr's death, but of the person, Jesus of Naza-
reth. The form of the observance, and its whole tone are in painful con-
trast with the theory. Instead of celebrating the memory of a dear firiend,
and honored instructor, you would imagine them recalling the sad obsequies
of a funeral. In behalf of the Evangelical, and especially of the Catholic
ceremonies, it may, at least, be said that they are self-consistent, and promote
the end for which they are designed ; but what can be said for the ceremony
as performed by Unitarians. Has it not reached with them its extreme
degradation ? Have they not inherited a form whose significance they have
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94 The Radical.
left behind ? What else is the meaning of the feet, that, generally, their
Communion service is so reluctantly and scantily attended ?
Daniel Bowen.
ENLIGHTENMENTS.
by jairus.
Friendship. —
" Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul ! "
That which we name love of friends, is commonly love of self. We seek
our friends for the use we can make of them. If something occur to disturb
the relation, to render them unavailable, the friendship ceases. Such, in
the legend, was the friendship of Saul for David. David was a noble Cap-
tain ; Saul loved him, almost idolized him. But some indiscreet women
sang in an outburst of enthusiasm, ** Saul hath slain his thousands, our
David his ten thousands." " What next will they sing," thought Saul,
" but that he have the kingdom ? " and he " eyed David from that day
and forward." He went down to the grave seeking the young man's life.
Contrast this with the glowing friendship of Jonathan. Taking sides with
David, shielding him from the jealous hatred of his father, loving and serv-
ing him in pure reverence and worship of the character that shone forth
in him, — a true lover — bowing at the shrine of the soul's nobleness !
That which lends the lasting charm of friendship is a superiority to friend-
ship-seeking. We do not need to seek our friends. We need most the
power of converting enemies. We need ourselves to be friends, minister- '
ing, rather than desiring to be ministered unto. How grand to know of
one who can divine another's necessities, and is only too joyous to speed the
relief!
Work. — It is among the cheering signs of the time that religion is more
and more considered to be a matter of practical life. The test is not sought
in any outward sign or profession, but in the daily walk of men ; in the
character which quietly manifests itself in all private and public affairs. All
true work is recognized as religious.
There is no business of life in which men or women can engage, that does
not allow of consecration and devotion. Truth and Justice and Love enter
everywhere, if we will but admit them, as angels, to lighten our burdens and
turn the hard, disagreeable tasks of life into joys unspeakable. It is the sad
experience that work is endured as drudgery > How few people have any
recognition of themselves as having the right to feel that they are God's
workers, — co-workers with him, to build his kingdom on earth as it is in
heaven. Yet this is the high privilege of mortals. They may come to them-
selves, and know by inward experiences that they are '^called'''' to bear wit-
ness to truth even in the humblest and most menial employment
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Enlightenments. 95
I know not what there is to hinder all people from looking anew upon this
life they are living, to question it, and compel it to answer as at the judg-
ment bar. What does it signify that many may be saying, " Lord, Lord,"
one day in seven ? Why shall not the merchant deal religiously ? Why
may he not feel that he is a loyal servant, serving according to the gift he
has received in trust Why shall not the banker refuse all temptation,
and give himself to his talent for public service — a witness to all truth
and just dealing? What trade demands the manhood of men as its sacri-
fice ? It alone should be defrauded, if it make for itself so infamous a de-
mand. For all people must agree to this, that the mere fact of surviving in
whatever condition, at whatever cost of soul, carries with it no worthy
thought " To bCy or not to be " becomes on such terms the least of all ques-
tions.
What then does every man need ? He needs to feel that he is wanted,
both by God and man, to be a truthful, devout worker ; seeking not private
gains as the end of all his endeavor, but the public weal. He shall best be
able to serve this large purpose, who turns his eye inward, to ask in all faith
that God in creating him, meant him, " Lord, what wouldst thou have
ME TO DO ? " " Know thjrself." This inscription on the old temple carries
a divine command. And this oft repeated assurance of Jesus, " The king-
dom of God is within you,'* has power to banish the most timid skepticism.
Let no one say, " Lo here, or, lo there," for within you must the kingdom
come, or come not at all.
When that revival of religion shall come which this age of self-government
demands, there will be grand awakenings to personal responsibility, to re-
cognition of sacred callings ; and men shall meet God in their daily work,
and worship with mind, and soul, and heart, and strength !
Idol Breaking. — Luther called a meeting of the Church. He de-
nounced the breaking of images.
A councillor said : " Mr. Doctor, do you grant me this much ? that Moses
knew God*s commandments. Well then, these are his words: *Thou
shalt not make to thyself any graven image nor the likeness of anything.' "
Luther replied : " That passage refers to images of idols only."
A shoemaker said : " I have often taken off my hat to some image in my
room, or on the way I was travelling. Now to do so is an act of idolatry,
which takes from God the glory due to him alone."
Luther replied : " Because of their being abused, then we ought to de-
stroy women and pour wine out into the street"
Another member of the Council said : " No, these are God's creatures
which we are not commanded to destroy."
Luther became excited and left the house. The sweep of the Reforma-
tion was broader than was pleasant for him. The people denied the Pope.
They were soon questioning and disputing with Luther. They appealed to
the Bible to interpret Moses for themselves.
From an infallible Church to an infallible Bible — a whole stride. Later
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there is another movement A large vanguard halts only before iht in^li-
ble Christ. Vanguard, did I say ? Still beyond I see a large array : men
and women pressing without fear close to the throne of God, saying, " We
are seekers of divine mysteries. We would know what is the souFs secret"
Jesus himself is one of the number. He has trod the same path before
them. And now his lips move in prayer : " Father, as thou hast
REVEALED IT UNTO ME REVEAL IT ALSO UNTO THESE."
The idols are all broken !
THE HUMMING-BIRD.
BY MYRON B. BENTON.
Thou hast strayed from Paradise :
Brighter skies
Than of Earth,
Beam above thy land of birth.
Thou dost hover,
From thy far-off spirit flight.
On swift wings of woven light
Wouldst thou ever, truant rover,
Fold with us thine angel wing?
Wouldst thou touch some earthly thing?
Here thou mayest joy pursue.
Waifs of sunshine fondly woo;
Close the honeysuckle tresses.
Faint beneath thy wild caresses.
Lily-of-the-valley bells
Deep in dew.
Shake their scented chimes anew ;
Columbine with nectared cells,
And the morning-glories blue,
Tremble in a blissful trance,
'Neath the fervor of thy glance.
Violets ;
Half hid in their green retreat,
Blue-bells in the leafy deep,
Mignonettes,
And the myrtle's azure mass.
Low in beds of fragrant grass.
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The Humming Bird. 97
Hear with joy thy nisMng wiag ;
For thou 'it ever whispering
Words of love
To Ae humblest floweret, even,
That there is a wide blue Heaven,
Up above.
Through the sunny garden coming,
Only this soft humming, humming,
Falls upon mine eager ear;
Where thy song? I list to hear
Sweeter note than Seraphim,
Chime with harp of Cherubim !
Messenger o£ joy and light,
Wafting in ecstatic flight,
Thy sweet life is song, fair one :
Other note thou needest none.
Speed thee on thy mission holy;
Cheer the downcast, melancholy;
Whisper love unto the lowly
Drooping flowers
Hidden in n^lected bowers;
Chase the shadows
From the meadows,
Carry sunshine to the darkened,
Who have hearkened
To thy coming.
And this drowsy humming, humming.
Shall be sweeter song to hear '
Than a Seraph's singing clear.
THE OLD AND NEW RELIGION.
THE scope of a letter which was published over my signature in the
preceding number of this periodical, was substantially this : That
Religion has never implied, save in our own day, a relation of spontaneous
accord, on man's part, towards God ; but one exclusively of enforced ac*
cord, flowing from a Divine redemption accomplished in man's nature. I
know perfectly well that this traditional bearing of religion upon the natural
conscience, has sunk into nearly complete disrepute. Every one almost^
nowadays looks upon religion as a li^giving rather than a death-bearing
3
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98
The Radical.
institution ; but this is an altogether modem view of the subject, and is
destitute of all warrant in the early religious records of the race. Every
one nowadays appears to fancy that if he could only fulfil the obligations
of religion, he might at once be launched, so far as God is concerned, upon
a summer sea of self-complacency, and smile contempt at every rising storm
which should menace his tranquility. But all this is the fruit of our grow-
ing religious sentimentality, and gets no countenance from the grim uncom-
promising past ; that is to say, from religion viewed as having reference
exclusively to the spiritual interests of man. Religion regarded as a spir-
itual doctrine has always borne, and must always continue to bear, a most
unamiable aspect towards our natural pride of heart ; and any one conse-
quently who finds it to deepen rather than diminish his natural equanimity,
can hardly help, as it seems to me, turning out the dupe of his own mis-
guided vanity. It may be a very unhandsome and unfashionable view of
the subject ; but it seems to me that no one whose understanding in theolo-
gic matters has not been somewhat sophisticated, can fail to perceive that
such and such alone has been the histc^ric function of religion. It has had
no genuine mission upon earth but to develope and inflame the latent hos-
tility of the natural mind towards God, in order that its votary becoming at
least convinced of the truth upon the subject, might be unfeignedly softened
in his natural characteristics, and so gradually conformed to the Divine
image. And I do not see, therefore, how our good Unitarian divines can
say so many complimentary things of it, while yet they deny it all weight
as a purely redemptive economy, or remain utterly incredulous of its rigidly
spiritual aims and efficacy.
If now we demand the rationale of this religious strictness, or seek the
philosophic ground of the stigma which religion puts upon human natture
in its unregenerate state, we shall find the answer to our inquiry in the two
fects following, namely : i. Our natural or phenomenal life, the life we ap-
pear to have in ourselves, is but the necessary basis of a superior spiritual
life which we have in God ; 2. In the infancy of human development this
truth is not livingly buj only traditionally believed, and hence religion is
necessary to deepen the conviction of it, by incessantly humbling man's
natural force. In other words, of the two elements which go to make up
our moral consciousness, a subjective and an objective one, or self and the
neighbor^ the latter is of right primary and commanding, the former wholly
derivative and subservient ; but we ourselves being naturally ignorant of
this Divinely established hierarchy between the constitutive elements of
our consciousness, incessantly tend to subvert it by giving its lower element
control of the higher one. Consequently unless religion were at hand au-
thoritatively to rebuke this tendency, and moderate in our bosoms the fire
of self-love which is naturally so ardent there, we should become at last
mere forms of unbridled egotism, and stifle in germ every possibility of an
eventual society or brotherhood among men. Religion speaks exclusively
in the interest of our public or associated destiny, exclusively from the in-
spiration of the social sentiment ; and it has no manner of respect for our
private personal hopes and aspirations, save in so ^ as they accommoda^te
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The Old and New Religion. 99
themselves to that supreme interest On the contrary in its purest form of
evolution, it has always been active in denouncing the pride of morality—
the conceit of a differential righteousness among men in the Divine sight —
as the most flagrant obstruction ofiered to the advent of God's kingdom
upon earth. Religion has been the uniform unflinching guardian or repre-
sentative of human society — human fellowship — human equality, while
as yet that great destiny for the race was utterly unsuspected by mankind,
being drowned out of all recognition by the prevalence of merely natural
loves, the love of self and the love of the world. These loves accordingly
have always been reprobated by it, whenever they are found exalting them-
selves against the love of God and of the neighbor. For while man is re-
garded and regards himself as a mere subject of his own nature, wholly
divorced moreover from God and his neighbor by such subjection, he can-
not but nourish a heart full of enmity to the Divine name. As long as he is
left to the sole guidance of his moral instincts, being bound to provide out
of his own unaided wit for all his organic wants, for all the wants not only
of his physical but of his passional and intellectual nature, it stands to
reason that he must practically turn out a form of unmitigated self-seeking
and iniquity, unless religion tone down these tendencies, and keep him
humble and tender by quickening within him a more or less lively conscience
of sin : a more or less hearty conviction of his vital contrariety to the Di-
vine perfection. Our real life is a spiritual or unconscious one hidden in
God, and never to be actualized consequently to our outward experience,
until we become inwardly conjoined with the Divine Spirit ; that is to say,
until we freely disown our moral manhood as engendering all manner of
discordant relations between man and man, and rise to the dignity of social
beings, having interests intensely and invariably at-one each with those
of every other. Our natural life on the other hand — the phenomenal or
purely conscious life we have in ourselves — while it furnishes an admirable
basis for this higher one, has yet no pretension to challenge a direct but
only a most inverse relation to it Nevertheless our instinctive moralism
binds us to give this lower life precedence of the higher ; leads us to exalt
the actual and transitory at the expense of the real and permanent ; leads
us, in short, to make our subjective consciousness the measure of all objec-
tive or absolute truth, and so to postpone the claims of society to our own
claims ; so that if Religion did not incessantly undermine our moral or
carnal righteousness by the disclosure of a more deep-seated spiritual death,
selfishness and covetousness would reign unchecked in our nature, and
render human society or fellowship eternally abortive.
Here and here alone, as it seems to me, is to be found the philosophic
justification of our past religious history. The subjective or natural ele-
ment in consciousness is an indispensable providential basis to its objective
or spiritual element : but inasmuch as it is liable and indeed sure to mis-
conceive its proper subserviency, and claim a foremost consideration at the
Divine hands, religion attaches a ball-and-chain to its feet in the shape of a
conviction of sin, which may moderate its overweening conceit, and make
it reasonably content to fulfil its humble office. No doubt — such is the
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inveterate imbecility of the human bosom — that this same ball-and-chaio
has come to be universally regarded by our professional religionists as an
ornamental appendage of their personality, which makes it a comparatively
easy thing to carry ; but to the honest, unadulterate common sense of man-
kind, religion implies a profound quarrel on God's part with human nature,
and consecrates its votary to the Divine favor, only in so fu" as it first utter-
ly desecrates his private or personal sanctity. In short, the total scope of
our religious experience has been to exhaust the subjective element in con-
sciousness— our private personal claim to God's consideration — c^ all
validity, and give us peace only in so far as we renounce our rampant ego-
tism, and find our individual title to God's favor solely in His work of uni-
Tersal mercy to the race.
All this, c^ course, is flat treason and blasphemy to the speculative inter-
ests which the Radical is expected to maintain ; but it is, in my opinion,
extremely friendly to the practical issues it has at heart So fkr as I un-
derstand the intellectual position of those whom the Radical aims to rep-
resent, it is one of sheer Naturalism, making the relation between man and
God to be naturally accordant ; and therefore stigmatizing as frivolous the
old ecclesiastical tradition on that subject, which makes their accord purely
spiritual, as contingent upon an actual Divine redemption of man, wrought
in the depths of his own nature. I need hardly say, after what has passed,
that I dissent, in toto^ from this intellectual judgment on the part of our cur-
rent religious naturalism ; but I cannot help seeing all the while that this
fierce rude Naturalism is not only a palpable advance upon the fll|^)ant
insincere Unitarianism of which it is the lineal but unfilial offspring, but
also stands practically much better affected to the future of human hope —
to the interests of our providential destiny — than the doting and debauched
Orthodoxy of which it is the impassioned enemy.
For ifi as we have seen, the living spirit of religion — the one sole spirit
which under all its literal forms religion has sought to nourish and promote
upon earth — is the social spirit, a spirit of the broadest society or fellow-
ship among men, then it is clear that any doctrine animated by that spirit,
is far more really, even if not nominally, religious in the best meaning of
that word, than all other doctrines put together, which, however nominally
religious, yet persistentiy blink out of sight the total spiritual contents of
religion. Now our current religious Naturalism, however imperfect it is
and even worthless as a speculative theology, is yet practically full of cordial
good-will to every man in his lowest estate ; and our current religious spir-
itualism on the other hand, however faultiess it prove as a speculative the-
ology, is yet in heart utterly indifferent to human welfare save in so far as
it can be compressed into sectarian channels. There can be no doubt,
accordingly, upon which cause the Divine smile rests. There can be no
doubt that our so-called Naturalism — in the divine judgment or separation
which is now taking place between the sheep and the goats — occupies the
right hand place, or place of honor ; and our so-called Spiritualism the left
hand place, or place of dishonor. For while the latter incessantiy vocifer-
ates Lord 1 Lord 1 with ail its lungs, or pays the Divine name even exces-
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The Old and New Religion. loi
sive and ridiculous ritual homage, it is utteriy dead to its spiritual quality,
and heaps remorseless outrage upon it whenever it comes into chance colli-
sion with its own carnal pretensions. And while the former utterly ignores
the Lord's name in any literal sense, or even disputes its claim to special
ritual remembrance, it spiritually recognizes the profoundly human or uni-
versal quality of that name, and seeks livingly to fulfil or reproduce its
blameless requisitions.
In short, the new Naturalism is a doctrine whose bare existence is inex-
plicable upon any other hypothesis than the accomplishment of that very
work of God in our nature, which Orthodoxy has always literally affirmed
and spiritually denied. If the social sentiment — the sentiment of a uni-
versal society, fellowship, equality among men, as alone consistent with the
creative perfection — had not got broadly established in men's respect : if
the supremacy of society to all organized interests upon earth, whether
sacerdotal or political, had not got the divinest ratification to men's con-
sciences everywhere : Naturalism, as a religious doctrine, would still be un-
heard of. For this doctrine is instinct (though, as it seems to me, far fi:t)m
intelligent) with the fundamental truth of Christianity, which is the truth of
God's NATURAL humanity, or of His living presence and power, not only
in the good, but above all, in the evil things of our nature ; not only in its
highest or most individualized mental forms, but also, and above all, in its
lowest, most abject, or universal forms : and therefore with all the poor spunk
1 can muster, I bid it a cheerful God-speed ! It fills me indeed with an in-
most anguish to hear any pontiff of the new dispensation commend (as they
are so apt to do) to our reverent jr^/W/i/a/ appreciation, some shining literary
notability in whose bosom a serene unconscious egotism does duty for the
Holy Ghost ; but I know all the while that this is my private infirmity 5
that it comes of my being, as yet, so unreconciled to the gospel of God's
redemption, which shows Him henceforward setting up whatever men have
most despised, and pulling down whatever they have most esteemed. It is
all owing, in other words, to the fact, that while reflectively I am full of good-
will, I yet am spiritually or spontaneously disaffected, to that supreme
manhood, which once in human annals lifted every basest, most reprobate
son of earth into such living contact and unison with the infinite Divine
holiness, as forever to shame out of all regard — save to the mind of deter-
mined unbelief — the thenceforth futile and frivolous pretension either of
an absolute good, or an absolute evil, in human character. I patiently ago-
nize, therefore, for a truer sympathy with this peerless heart of manhood in
my race ; and meanwhile do my best to stifle or benumb every emotion with
which my rebellious bosom heaves, when I see God's eternal love and wis-
dom vindicating themselves to a spiritual regard, only by abasing all that
my natural heart fondly pronounces good ; only by falsifying all that my
natiiral imderstanding loudly proclaims as true. H. j.
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MR. SEARS ON MODERN NATURALISM.
THE remarkable Address of Mr. Sears to the Cambridge Alumni^ has
already been noticed in these pages. It merits, though only by its
demerit, a further consideration.
Mr. Sears is a very able writer, but much less able as a thinker. His
thought has indeed a kind of wide, swift, and sweeping movement, which is
not only pleasing, but fascinating ; while the same gives him such an air of
easy and lofty mastery over his subject, that one is inclined to fall into his
train, throw up the cap and huzza, as one is to dance when sweet and spirited
music tugs at his heels. This effect is enhanced by the extreme charm of
his style, for he is an accomplished rhetorician ; he writes with great fresh-
ness, felicity, and vigor ; and the words seem to have f own to his thought
like iron filings to a magnetic bar.
Nevertheless, when one compels himself to disregard his manner and
attend stricdy to matter, there is found to be, with all this movement, no
progress. You are magnificently piloted to the land of Nowhere. His
thought is a chaos disguised by learning, rhetoric and self-confidence. The
paper above mentioned is more throughly destructive than any other we have
seen of late years ; for, not content with attempting the life of every theory
within reach, it ends by destroying itself. It is a piece of splendid suicide.
Mr. Sears is more unkind to himself than to any other, for he cuts up his
own belief by the roots ; he sets one hand at stabbing at the other ; all that
he would say, he succeeds in unsaying.
We have no intention of making these assertions without duly sustaining
them ; we put forward our accusation at the outset that it may recoil upon our
own heads if imperfecdy supported.
Let us come at once to the point. After showing that modem science
has broken through the shell of " the old supernaturalism," which can no
more be pieced together ; after showing, again, that science, having des-
troyed the old belief remains barren, impotent to produce spiritual children ;
after accepting Kant fully in the statement made by that hard-headed thinker
of the limitations which appertain " to the speculative reason," that is, to the
logical understanding, posited in space and time ; Mr. Sears arrives at this
result : Natural science is atheistic ; " the speculative reason " is hemmed
in helplessly within the walls of the finite ; it is impossible to climb, by log-
ical process, from World to God — impossible to arrive at a single absolute
truth by any word on which the understanding, setting out from data fur-
nished by our natural experience, is able to journey. The argument of
" natural religion " is a solecism. Paley's Evidences are waste paper.
We say not nay to all this. Herbert Spencer has indeed shown that the
action of the understanding perpetually implicates a reality which it can
never explain. It asserts its own partiality. It ever says, " There is more
beyond." But this is its utmost achievement in that direction ; and this
surely is not enough.
It is to be said also, that Swedenborg struck out, and Wilkinson has fol-
fowed, upon a higher path, which, we may perhaps say, does lead from finite
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Mr. Sears on Modern Naturalism. 103
to infinite, from World to God. But this is a road on which only imagina-
tive reason can journey. It is a turnpike, at whose gate the understanding is
arrested for want of ability to pay the required toll. It may, indeed, go
through, but only, like a horse, as the driven, not the driver.
However, the statement of Mr. Sears must be substantially admitted.
The understanding as defined by Kant, is indeed enclosed helplessly within
the limits of the finite, while that which Kant calls reason {Vemunft) is
itself the enclosing walL Modem science, and the philosophy which works
exclusively by its methods, are limited as the understanding is limited. So
fiu- we freely confess that Mr. Sears' " Naturism *' cannot legitimate a
single religious truth.
Having gone on victoriously so far, our knight errant, warring in behalf
of the distressed damsel of traditionalism, prepares to encounter a last foe,
and to sweep the field of man's natural experience, outward or inward, sen-
sational or spiritual, clear of all right to believe, or reason for believing.
Aware that ht has now come to his critical conflict, he braces his nerve,
and dashes on to the charge with a red rowel and a flashing blade.
" Frightened," he says, ** at this result," namely, this hopeless enclosure in
the phenomenal or finite, " the naturalistic philosophy hastens to shift its
ground. Oh, the moral nature is not phenomenal, but noumenal : it is not
representative of God, but presentative. Very well : then the moral con-
science is itself God, for that is what it presents : and the essential divine
is transferred to the human consciousness, and God sinks and is lost in
man."
A consummation surely not to be wished. We are under obligations to
Mr. Sears for refusing to permit the same. It were undoubtedly childish
lor man to think of walking in shoes so much too big for him, and pro£uie
to meditate thrusting the Eternal into shoes so much too small.
Nevertheless, though the charge is so gallantly made, and apparently, —
his own word for it — in so good a cause, the question remans : Who is it,
when the conflict is over, that lies in the dust ? To our eye, the prostrate
figure looks dreadfiiUy like that of Mr. Sears himself! And moreover, we
thought it his own weapon which cast him there. What else could happen,
if one would run a tilt at the adamant of eternal truth ?
We proceed to inspection. Let any one read the passage quoted above,
and say if he, or any other man, can possibly understand the writer other-
wise than as maintaining that man's moral being must be one of these two,
either noumenal or phenomenal, either presentative or representative. He
is trying to bind the " Naturists " to this alternative, and make it a dilemma,
on either horn of which they will be slain. Does he believe what he sa)rs ?
Is he using words sincerely ? Is the alternative in his own mind merely
verbal, or is it real ? If verbal only, it Js a piece of paltering on his part ; if
real, he is as much destroyed as anybody. He says presently, " Say that
the moral nature gives us only phenomena, and we run dead into the abyss
of atheism ; say it gives us noumena, and we are clutched forthwith by an
all devouring Pantheism." Well, what then, Mr. Sears ? Nothing. What
escape ? None. Mr. Sears is nowhere ; he is leading nowhither : he is a
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I04 The Radical.
philosophic destructionist ; he is the Thug of metaphjsic ; he has no posi-
ti<Mi, no idea. What has he ? Only the hope, one would say, that when zjl
spiritual basis of belief has been made away with, and all possibility of belier-
ing by nature, right, and evidence been exploded, then men will helplessly sub-
side, or sprawl, upon the platform of Augustinism taken in the Pickwickian
sense, which would seem to be his own dependence. A hope vain indeed ;
for it were vainer in its fulfillment than in being disappointed.
We are not denouncing Mr. Sears. Privately, we are sure, he is a most
estimable man. Doubtless he is conscious of nothing but the purest inten*
tions. Not a syllable here is designed to impugn his moral dispositions.
We describe simply his attitude towards ideas. This is merely mischievous.
Among ideas his chosen function is that of headsman ; and he chops, chops
away with a sole zeal to destroy. And if the reducing oneself to this be
victory, what were defeat ?
But the dilemma which he has sought to constitute, with no escape for
himself more than for others, is altogether forced and arbitrary, obtained
by pushing words beyond their proper scope. We admit that if the moral
being of man is merely phenomenal, we fall not indeed into atheism, but
into no more than a negative theism, like that of Herbert Spencer. It
would not indeed follow that the moral consciousness is false or meaning-
less were it phenomenal It might be representative, and yet be trustwor-
thy. A symbol is not necessarily a he. Words are symbolic ; they are not
the things themselves signified ; yet that words may be the instruments of
truth we still believe, though fresh from reading Mr. Sears. Say that the
moral consciousness is no more than a divine word, symbolic, representative
only ; how shall one thence infer that it reprtsents nothing, but only/r^
sents man's subjectivity ? Must a word be the thing it signifies, under pain
of signifying that no thing exists ?
However, if the soul of man be only phenomenal, we concede that immor-
tality goes by the board. The phenomenal changes, perishes ; it is as Mr.
Sears reports, " ever dying, and never reappears in the same form."
But does it follow, if the moral nattu-e is presentative, that it imprisons
God in the consciousness of man ? Not at all Mr. Sears' assumption of
this is purely gratuitous ; while without this assumption his terrifying
dilemma comes to nothing.
Let us speak first of the moral nature in the stricter sense of the term. This
is presentative we will say. But of what ? Of God ? Only as God is im-
plied in Duty. Its single word is ought It affirms absolute obligation.
Absolute, observe. Its express attestation is that moral obligation is not
begotten and contained within the limits of man's individuality — that it
transcends these limits — that it is incommensurable with aught finite or
subjective. This is the sign manual of divinity upon it
If we enlarge the term " moral nature " to include all man's spiritual being
and arrive at those inward indications of a divine presence, which, we
would ^n believe, are not wanting to Mr. Sears more than to others (yet
how know of a divine presence, if the divine is not presented f) the same
characteristic remains. The divine is presented, but neither as alien from
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Social Science, 105
oar own being, nor as contained within the limits of our subjectivity. It is
presented, but expressly as transcending all individual limitation.
Does Nf r. Sears know nothing of this experience ? And still professes to
be a spiritual teacher ! But if he does know of it, why make confusion about
it ? Why try to force mere verbal limitations, mere word-necessities, upon
an interior fact, which exists vrithout words, and can never be more than
dumsily represented by them ? CaU this inward presentation noumenal, or
call it supernatural, quite as you please. The calling does not make the
£act, and will not change it The divine is presented in the consciousness
of man ; or of a divine presence man never knows. Is it a divine pres-
ence that Mr Sears affirms, or only a divine absence ? If he affirms a God
eternally present^ he affirms a God ^itrudMy presented s if he affirms a God
eternally absent, he affirms atheism.
This is his alternative. Let him take his position, not with reference to
words, but with reference to facts of man's inward life. Or, if he will take
no position, let him be silent, and forbear to confuse by word-mongering, or
if he cannot confuse, to disparage, those who choose neither to flounder for-
ever in the slough of Pyrrhonism, nor to believe by shutting their eyes,
without knowing at what or why. D. A. w.
THE AMERICAN SOCIAL SCIENCE ASSOCIATION.
IN response to an invitation, contained in a Circular issued in August
by the Board of State Charities, a large and very respectable meeting
assembled in the Representatives' Hall, at the State House, Boston,
on Wednesday, the 4th instant Almost all parts of the State were repre-
sented, and many persons came from other States. Among the audience
were many ladies, several of whom took part in the proceedings, while many
enrolled themselves as members of the Association.
The meeting was called to order by Dr. Edward Jarvis, of Dorchester,
Chairman of the Committee of Arrangements. Governor Andrew was
chosen Chairman, by acclamation, and Dr. James C. White, of Boston, and
F. B. Sanborn, of Concord, were appointed Secretaries. The Governor
took the Chair a little past ten o'clock, A. M., and after a brief address,
thanking the meeting for the honor conferred, and emphasizing the impor-
tance of the subject to be discussed, he called upon the Committee of Ar-
rangements to bring forward the business of the day. In response. Dr.
White, one of the Secretaries, read the Report of the Committee, stating
in detail the topics included in the term Social Science^ and proposing a
society for their public consideration and discussion. The Report was able,
and to the point ; it was received with marked favor by the assembly ; and
it was immediately voted to form an Association on the basis indicated in
the Report. What this was will appear better from the Constitution adopted,
which is, in its main points, a condensation of the Report
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io6 The Radical.
Constitution of the American Association for the Promotion
OP Social Science.
Adopted in Boston^ October 4, 1865.
I. — This Society shall be called The American Association for the
Promotion of Social Science.
II. — Its objects are, to aid the development of Social Science, and to guide
the public mind to the best practical means of promoting the Amendment
of Laws, the Advancement of Education, the Prevention and Repression of
Crime, the Reformation of Criminals and the progress of Public Morality,
the adoption of Sanitary Regulations, and the diffusion of sound principles
on questions of Economy, Trade and Finance. It will give attention to
Pauperism, and the topics related thereto ; including the responsibility of
the well-endowed and successful, the wise and educated, the honest and re-
spectable, for the failures of others. It will aim to bring together the vari-
ous societies and individuals now interested in these objects, for the purpose
of obtaining by discussion the real elements of Truth, by which doubts
are removed, conflicting opinions harmonized, and a common ground afford-
ed for treating wisely the great social problems of the day.
III. — This association snail include four departments : the first for Edu-
cation ; the second for Public Health ; the third for Economy, Trade and
Finance ; the fourth for Jurisprudence and the Amendment of Laws.
IV. — The officers of this association shall be a president, four vice-presi-
dents, a recording secretary, a corresponding secretary, a treasurer, and five
directors, who shall constitute an executive committee of thirteen, and shall
have power to fill any vacancies in their body which shall occur between
the annual meetings. One vice-president and one director shall be assigned
to each department, and these, together with a special secretary for each,
shall constitute the executive committee for each department The fifth
director shall act as librarian. These seventeen officers shall hereafter be
chosen annually, on the second Wednesday in October, and shall hold office
till their successors are chosen.
V. — The annual meetings of this association shall be held in Boston, un-
less some other place is specially designated. Special meetings may be
called by the executive committee or by the president and any five memoers
of the committee at any time and place which they may think proper ; but
no officers shall be chosen, assessments made, or amendments to the Con-
stitution passed, except at the annual meetings, or some adjournment
thereof.
VI. — The business of the meetings shall be to hear Addresses, Reports
and Papers, and to conduct discussions on the topics before mentioned.
When desirable, the meetings shall be held by departments, over each of
which a vice-president shall preside. All members may take part in the
discussions, but no papers shall be read which have not been previously
submitted to the executive committee in each department.
VI 1. — Before any meeting shall divide into departments, and immediately
after the transaction of the regular business, the president shall call for, and
the executive committee may bring forward, such subjects, not exceeding
four in number, as are judged by them of immediate practical importance,
and these shjdl have the precedence of all other subjects during the first ses-
sion of the meeting.
VIII. — Any person may become a member by signing the Constitution,
and paying the sum of three dollars, and may continue a member by paying
annually such further sum, not exceeding five dollars, as may be assessed
on the members by vote of the association at its annual meeting. Any per-
son may become a life member, exempt from assessments, by the payment
of fifty dollars.
IX. — Honorary members and corresponding members mavbe chosen, but
shall not exceed the number of the regular members ; and members thus
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Social Science, 107
chosen shall be exempt from the payment of assessments. All members,
both re^lar, honorary and corresponding, shall be entitled to receive a copy
of the Transactions of the association.
X. — The secretaries, under the direction of the executive committee,
shall annually select from the papers handed in and the addresses made,
such as they shall deem proper for publication, and shall publish them,
along with a report of the doings and discussions at the meetings during
the year. This publication shall be called the Transactions of the associa-
tion. They may also prepare and issue such other publications as may be
deemed best by the executive committee.
XI. — None but regular members shall have the privilege of voting in
the meetings, and none but members of taking part in the discussions, ex-
cept by invitation of the presiding officer ; but it shall be the policy of the
association to admit as many members as possible, and to encourage the
co-operation of other societies having kindred objects in view.
XII. — Whenever other associations shall be formed in other parts of
North America, it shall be the policy of this association to co-operate with
them so far as practicable. For this purpose the executive committee are
empowered to call a convention of these assaciations, or to send delegates
to such a convention.
This Constitution was not adopted without full discussion, and the modi-
fication of some points in it. In substance, however, it was the same as
that reported by the Committee, and read by Mr. Sanborn, at the meeting.
The name chosen was not entirely satisfactory to all those present Mr.
Samuel E. Sewell and several others wished for a Massachusetts associa-
tion ; some desired a New England association ; but it was so evidently
the wish of the majority to extend the field of operations over the whole
country, that finally the name " American " was agreed upon. The price of
admission to membership was also warmly discussed ; Wendell Phillips,
and Colonel Higginson, taking part in favor of a low rate rather than a high
one. The sum of three dollars was finally fixed upon, at the suggestion of
Colonel Higginson.
A proposition to add a fifth Department, to consider the Reformation of
Criminals and young Delinquents was made by Mr. George B. Emerson,
and warmly supported by several others. It was voted down, however, after
Dr. Jarvis had stated that the classification reported, was that of the British
association, and had been found, on trial, to be the best.
Among those who debated these and other points relating to the Consti-
tution, were Mrs. C. H. Dall, of Boston ; Dr. A. B. Palmer, of Michigan
University ; Dr. Strong, of New York ; Judge Russell, of Boston ; Hon.
Amasa Walker, of North Brookfield ; Hon. John A. Goodwin, of Lowell ;
John D. Philbrick, of Boston ; Judge Wright, Rev. C. F. Barnard, T. C.
Amory, Patrick O. Jackson ; Dr. E. W. Hatch, of the Connecticut Reform
School, and Edward Earle, of Worcester. After the adoption of the Consti-
tion, a nominating committee of thirteen, representing the states of Maine,
Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York and Michigan, reported the follow-
ing list of officers, who were chosen by the members.
President— Vxoi, William B. Rogers, of Boston. Vice-President-^l, Rev.
Dr. Thomas HiU, of Cambridge, (Department of Education) ; II. Dr. Sam-
uel G. Howe, of Boston, (Department of Public Health); III. Rev. Dr.
Theodore D. Woolsey, of New Haven, (Department of Economy, Trade, and
Finance) ; IV. Dr. Francis Lieber,of New York, (Department of Jurispru-
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dence and Amendment of Laws). Directors^ (assigned to each of the above-
named departments in their order), I. Rev. Dr. E. O. Haven, Ann Arbor,
Mich.; II. Mrs. Samuel Parkman, of Boston ; III. Edward Atkinson,
Esq., of Boston ; Hon. Emory Washburn of Cambridge. Secretaries^ I.
Hon. Joseph White, of Williamstown ; II. James C. White, of Boston ; IIL
Hon. George Walker, of Springfield ; IV. Prof. Theodore W. Dwight, of
New York. — Recording Secretary — F. B. Sanborn, Esq^ of Concord. Cor-
responding Secretary — Prof. Samuel Eliot, of Boston. Treasurer — Charles
H. Dalton, Esq., of Boston. General Director and Librarian — Mrs. Caro-
line H. Dall, ot Boston.
It will be seen that of the- five Directors, two are women. It was under-
stood that most of the officers chosen, had been consulted beforehand, and
would serve on the Executive Committee, which, by the Constitution, has
the general management of the association.
In the afternoon session, papers were read by Wm. P. Atkinson and Dr.
Henry G. Clark, and an interesting discussion followed. The enrollment
of members was continued through the day, until nearly a hundred were on
the list Some of these were the followmg : Gov. Andrew, Judge Wash-
burn, Wendell Phillips, Thomas C. Amory, Mrs. Mara Weston Chapman,
Rev. J. M. Manning, George B. Emerson, Wm. Lloyd Garrison, Hon. John
Nesmith, Hon. Josiah Quincy, Mrs. Mary I. Quincy, Miss A. W. May, Dr.
H. G. Qark, Prof A. B. Palmer of Michigan ; Dr. J. S. Buder of Hartford ;
Dr. Edward Jarvis, Prof Gilman, of Yale College, Dr. O. S. Strong, of
New York ; Rev. Bradford K. Pierce, of New York ; Dr. Hatch, of Mend-
en, Conn ; E. S. Tobey, J. D. Philbrick, Joseph A. Allen of Westboro' ;
Mrs. Charles Pierce, of Cambridge ; Mrs. Mary E. Steams, of Medford ;
Hon. G. Haynes, of Charlestown ; Hon. Phineas Ball, of Worcester ; Dr.
N. Allen, ofLowell ; CoL T. W. Higginson, of Worcester.
We notice here a very happy mixture of Radicals and Conservatives, and
a fair proportion of women. In the British Association some of the most
eminent members are women — Florence Nightingale and Mary Carpenter
being two of them.
The whole proceedings of the meeting showed great interest in the sub-
ject of Social Science on the part of those assembled, and we are told that
the letters received by the Board of State Charities, in reply to their Circu-
lar, indicate an equal interest in all parts of the Union. The people of Lex-
ington, Kentucky, have voted to invite the association to hold its next an-
nual meeting there ; the Philadelphia Prison Society, founded by Rush and
Franklin, chose delegates, and promise co-operation. There really seems
to be an opportunity for the new association to do a great good.
SOCIAL SCIENCE IN ENGLAND.
By a coincidence, which we are quite sure was not arranged, while the
public-spirited persons who have set on foot a Social Science Association
in this country were holding their convention at the State House, on the
fourth of October, the British Association for the same objects was holding
its ninth annual session at Sheffield, under the presidency of its founder.
Lord Brougham. This elder association was projected in 1856, but was not
formally organized until October, 1857, when its first assembly was held at
Birmingham. In 1858, it met in Liverpool; in 1859, in Bradford; and
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Social Science, 109
since then in Glasgow, Dublin, London, Edinburgh and York. It was at
the two last-named places that Lord Brougham, in his annual address, made
those unfortunate allusions to America which he has since tried to explain,
but which he does not mend by his explanations.
In many respects, however, the address of Brougham for 1865, is worthy
of note. He runs over the field, and it is a vast one, which his associates
cover in their investigations and discussions, and if he does not offer much
that is absolutely new, he talks with spirit on all topics, and very instruct-
ively on some. Perhaps he inakes us think of that ill-natured witticism
which greeted his appointment as Lord Chancellor — "that it was a pity
Brougham did not know a little law, for then it could be truly said that he
knew a liUle of everything ; '' but he has served mankind so long, and, on the
whole, so well, that he is entitled to immimity both from laughter and anger.
We shall make a few extracts, from Lord Brougham's address, which we
find reported in the London Star of the 5th : —
CO-OPERATION OF WORKINGMEN. — HOURS OP LABOR.
It was highly satisfactory at our last Congress to mark the success of the great
co-operative movement in the increase of the societies and their resources. That
process has continued, although not at the rate of former years ; and as this dim*
mution has partly arisen from the increased rigor of the rules established, and the
arrangements enforced with the view to profit, an advantage has been gained ; ex-
cept, perhaps, that too great parsimony has been shown m the payment of those
employed. It was, however, impossible that the same rate of increase should con-
tinue which had been exhibited m i860 and 1861, when no less than 250 new sod-
ties had been formed. In 1863 there were in all 454, whose sales in the year
amounted to j£2,626,ooo, and their profit divided was £213,000. Mr. Pratt*s return
for the last year (1864) is jo< societies, their sales £2, 742,000, and profit X225,ooa
The counties of York ana Lancaster continue to take the lead, as in the number
of 505, Lancaster has no less than 130, and this 104. One cannot avoid recollecting
the saying of a Rochdale tradesman, when a few workmen advanced a little money
to establish a store ; he said he should be able to carry it all in his wheelbarrow,
and now the assets of the societies are returned at £891,000, and their cash in the
bank and in the hands of their treasurers at £105,000.
Much has been done for the workingman without any Parliamentary proceedings.
The repeated and .earnest expression of opinion by our body to their employers
has continued to receive their full consideration, and those whom we extolled at
York and Edinburgh for their kindly conduct, and especially the Messrs. Cham-
bers, have been reducing the hours of labor to ten, ana this has become a general
movement The early closing, of which Leeds was so great and so early an exam-
ple, has been more generally followed, and it is very probable that in both these
relaxations the loss in hours of labor will be compensated by the more healthy state
of the men and their more diligent working.
ENGLISH AND IRISH PRISONS.
In the class of penal servitude, the subdivision of lar^e prisons, the introduction
of the mark system, the reduction of the excessive gratmtios and of the dietary, the
use of photography, and the giving police superintendance (beneficial not only to
the public at large, but to the convicts themselves,) are ^eat and important im-
provements ; and these, together with the use of intermediate prisons in certain
cases, have approached the Irish system to our own. But there has been c:reat
improvement in the convict prisons for minor ofiienders, and an Act passed last
session has been executed most beneficially by the Home Department All these
changes have received the full approbation of the prison directors, whose report
has Men published, and who bear their testimony to the excellent effects of^the
▼arious changes on which they comment It is very important that the absence of
Sir Walter Crofton is well supplied by his able successor, and has been so fiir from
injuring his system that this has been consolidated by time, and its details are per-
fected by experience. The great principle has now received frill effect that the
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term of punishment should be lessened, not merely by the convict's conduct since
his imprisonment, but by his subsequent conduct until the supervision now first
actually exercised under the ticket of leave has expired. This supervision of his
entire liberation has had all the success that could be expected from it The de-
fect which experience shows in the existing regulations for suspension depends
upon the absence of connection between the police force at different stations. The
improvement in the discipline of county and borough goals, urged by Lord Carnar-
von and effected by the gratuitous labors of Sir V/ alter Crofton, will be sufficient
for the reformation of convicts, provided that drawbacks shall cease which at pres-
ent exist, the term of confinement not being shortened in those prisons by the con-
vict's behavior. These and many other matters will, it is to be hoped, receive full
consideration at this Congress, as our invaluably colleague, the Recorder of Bir-
mingham, if he shall unfortunately be unable to attend, will certainly communicate
the result of his residence in Ireland, and also upon his opinion the working of the
Liverpool Act, passed last session, for enlarging the powers of grand juries in sani-
tary cases, an Act which ought to be extended to other towns. We shall also have
the advantage of the presence of Miss Carpenter, whose recent work, " Our Con-
victs," contains the fullest account of the whole subject
The Miss Carpenter here complimented by his lordship (very deservedly)
is the author of the book on Prisons which we reviewed early in September,
and which Spencer has republished. We have not yet noticed any paper
contributed by her at the session in Sheffield, but her friend, W. L. Clay, the
son of the celebrated chaplain of the Preston gaol, read an essay on the re-
cent improvements in the English Penal System, on the 5th, and, the same
day, Mr. Baker read an argument in favor of improved Houses of Correction.
Mr. Forsyth, author of a life of Cicero, Thomas Hughes, G. J. Holyoake,
Professor Fawcett, Edwin Chadwick, our countryman Mr. Channing, and
many others, took part in the debates, which touched upon various questions
of Law Reform, on the Education of Girls, Trades- Unions, the Health of
Workingmen, &c. — Boston Commonwealth,
LETTER FROM LONDON.
THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE.
London, Sept 16.
It is said that an American Indian, on being introduced to an eminent
litterateur of Europe, asked, " But where are his scalps ? " The simple fel-
low would not believe in greatness where there were no trophies. At the
meeting of the British Association at Birmingham, during the past week,
Science appeared with her trophies all around her. Thousands on thou-
sands of hammers, machines, engines rang and roared out the wondrous
stdry of the advance and skill and industrial art directly consequent upon the
advance of scientific thought in England. The great manufacturers there
open their works to the members of the Association, and it was quite cu-
rious to see men whose lives were devoted to quiet and secluded studies
down among the swart and bare-armed genii who were obeying the lamp
of the scholar^s study, and incarnating^ their theories in great bronze and
iron thews and forms. The theorist was one end of the subtle chain of
which the other is that big hammer which I saw in a huge electroplating
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Letter from London. iii
establishment, bringing down an eighteen ton blow which transformed an
ugly copper plate into a beautifully shaped goblet fit for the table of a king.
I heard Sir John Lubbock one day describe a queer ephemera {chtoeou)
which beginning down under the water as a little white larva, the fortieth of
an inch long, without trace of a breathing tube, passed through twenty
metamorphoses, created itself a pair of lungs, ornamented itself with three
tails, elongated its antennae, then, coming to the surface of the water, opened
a secret door in its back and came out of it a pretty little winged thing to voyage
in the air. Then I went to Gillott's steel pen factory, and saw a bit of flat
steel pointed by one girl, split by another, stamped by another, polished by
another, and so on through its twenty transformations, when it came out
ready to write somebody's winged thoughts. And I wondered whether the
pious old lady was right or not, when she exclaimed, after going through a
cotton mill, " God's works are great, but man's works are greater ! " I think
if the dear old lady had only remembered that man's cunning brain ^ God's
master-work, her phrase would have been just right It is on the cerebral
moimt that Nature is transfigured. With what a sense of this unity of Aian
and nature did I look upon the models used by Watt, at Birmingham, when
he was feeling out that magnificent discovery which has added to the world,
by a strict calculation, a working strength greater than that of a thousand
millions of men. This little cylinder, not one foot long, in which he experi-
mented on separate condensation, was the small casket that had lain under
the sea so many ages, from which the giant was to emerge. They do get
up these Scientific Soirees magnificently in England. Such peeps into the
infinitesimal — such glances into the infinite as our eyes got that evening !
The delicate scintillations of electric and metallic spectra, revealing the
elements of planets ; the dull dust of some beetle's wing shining out under
the microscope as a golden constellation ; a curious connection between
man and flea suggested by the lancet of a flea started out into a rapier ;
great iron plate indented with nine shot, and other belligerent preparations ;
the Telegraph Cable, which Cyrus Field, who was present, seemed to keep
as far from as possible ; photographs which caught the falling surf, the rising
mist, the flying sea-fowl, the moonlight, and held them with a perfection
that made one shudder, — ah, how thrilling were all these ! In the centre
of the room was a glass case holding a big rock, with human skull and other
bones embedded in it, found in Wales. It was queer to see the faces of
the followers of Moses as they passed this bit of rock. They lifted their
noses, and wished in their hearts that the skull were Colenso's. They talked
disrespectfully of it, like the man mentioned by Sidney Smith who spoke
disrespectfully of the equator. Pity that Nature should have so much leaning
toward heresy, and insist on showing man as living a few hundreds or thou-
sands of years earlier than Moses makes him out to have been. On the other
hand the geologists could not keep away from this poor brother who spoke
so eloquently from his stone bed. Doubtless he had devoured many a
human being with those big teeth of his, and his big arm-bones had mas-
tered the Irish elk, or sent his stone arrow into the side of elephas primo-
genusy and, in short, he must have been a harder customer to deal with
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lit The Radical.
than these whlte-cravatted gentry who look upon him as a teacher of infidel^
ity ; but I mm sure that if Sir Charles Lyell had obeyed the instincts of his
heart he would have kissed that skulL As it was, we had disquisitions made
on it quite as important as those of Hamlet on the skull of Yorick ; but we
had nothing better than Davy's vision of the England of past epochs. The
words of Sir Humphrey Davy are : " Whilst I was still in motion a dim
and hazy light which seemed like that of twilight on a rainy morning broke
upon my sight, and gradually a country displayed itself to my view covered
with forests and marshes. I saw wild animals grazing in large savannahs,
and carnivorous beasts disturbing and destroying them. I saw naked
savages feeding on wild fruits or devouring shellfish, or fighting with clubs
for the remains of a whale which had been thrown on the shore. I observed
that they had no habitations— that they concealed themselves in caves or
under the shelter of palm trees, and that the only delicious food which
nature seemed to have given them was the date and the cocoa-nut, and these
were in very small quantity, and the objects of contention. I saw that some
few of these wretched human beings that inhabited the wild waste before my
eyes had weapons pointed with fish-bone or stone, which they made use of
for destroying birds, quadrupeds, or fishes that they fed upon raw ; but their
greatest delicacy appeared to be a maggot or worm, which they sought for
with the greatest perseverance in the buds of the palm."
What is to come out of magnesium ? A few evenings ago I saw the vast
crowds in the streets of Birmingham watching for the littie balloons which
were to be sent up, illuminated with magnesium lights. And when these
lights did ascend and move gendy through the air, not only was every face
of the crowd distinguishable, but the very tmU of the faces ; and the thought
struck me that.it may be this artificial sunlight which is yet to give us
photographs with the colors and shades of Nature caught and held. For
one half of a century magnesium has been a '^ sleeping beauty " — a mere
name in the catalogue of elements. It has indeed, in one of its combina-
tions, been a terror to children who, at the bidding of those descendants of
Herod, the Allopaths, drank it as life's first bitterness. What Davy (1808)
only named, it has been given to Bunsen, Faraday, Sonstadt, Deville and
Caron to bring foremost in the ranks of experiment and interest in the present
day. Last year, when the British Association was holding its meeting at
Bath, Professor Roscoe, in the course of a brilliant lecture, took a life-sized
photograph of the President, Sir Charles Lyell, in a flash, by magnesium
light, and exhibited it to the audience. A year has passed, and at the meet-
ing of the same body at Birmingham, there were exhibited photographs of
the interior chambers of the Great Pyramid of Egypt There where a sun-
' beam can never reach, Professor Piozzi Smith had carried his sun light along
with his camera, and as the result of it we saw the great dark roofs, and
vaults, and fissures, and the dusky figures of the workmen digging for
mummies. I trust that Americans will take the hint, and give us those
grand dark chambers of the Weir Cave In Virginia, and the Mammoth, of
Kentucky. There was, by the way, an agreement, among the sages of
Science, that many disasters at sea might be escaped by the use of magne-
sium signab of danger, ' c
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THE RADICAL.
DECEMBER, 1865.
DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON,
Minister of the Free Church at Lynn, Mass.
II.
REAL AND IMAGINARY AUTHORITY.
WE have urged that the Fountainhead of Religion is not
Tradition, but a present and constant Inspiration. Original
Authority in matters of Belief therefore resides in the testi-
mony of the Spiritual Consciousness. It is by this term that we de-
signate the knowledge we possess concerning spiritual things, through
the present operation of our natural faculties. We are immediately
conscious of all the Essential Realities to which we stand related —
of Deity, of Duty, of Immortality. In some form or other, we do, as
spiritual beings, see these directly^ as the eye sees objects distant or
near. And this is our real ground of belief in them. Each person,
moreover, believes in them not primarily because every one else does,
but for the same reason that every one else does, namely, the prodig-
ious force of the evidence which resides in his individual conscious-
ness. This testimony cannot be supplanted, nor even approached in
value, by any of those forms of reasoning from analogy or traditional
belief or special revelation, which are so commonly appealed to as
conclusive evidence of the truths in question. They are all compara-
tive failures ; and to resort to them where some exceptional cause for a
time interferes with the natural sight, is more apt to weaken belief
than to strengthen it ; as would any attempt to demonstrate the exis-
tence of the visible world which ignored the evidence of the senses.
Such is the authority of the Spiritual Consciousness through its intui-
tion of our Essential Realities.
But it is mxxt. than the basis of Intuitive Belie£ It is the primary
X
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114 The Radical.
ground of assurance in reference to those highest products of Religious
Reflection, to those noblest ideas concerning God, Duty, and Immortal
Life, which comparatively few have reached, as vrell as to those Intui-
tions which are common to all mankind. An implicit tru§t in the pres-
ent testimony of our natural faculties, in Consciousness, whether in-
tuitive or reflective, is the first, indispensable condition of all knowledge
whatsoever, from the least to the greatest, from physical to celestial.
And of this primal foundation here is the inevitable law. In any
given age or individual, the Spiritual Consciousness is according to
the moral, intellectual, spiritual status which that age or individual
has attained. It testifies only of the actual condition of the inward life.
It is the witness on which we necessarily rely, as it is the inevitable
court of final appe^il : but its law is that we shall judge according as
we are.
Does not then this sole and inalienable authority turn out to be in-
capable of teaching anything with certitude, in other words, to be no
authority at all ? Not, we reply, unless our spiritual organization is
inherently a fraud. The eye may see imperfectly \ but if really an
organ of vision^ it must see at least the general forms of things as they
are, and we are safe in relying on its testimony as to these. And so
the Spiritual Consciousness cannot become so disorganized but that it
sees in some way, worthy or unworthy, the essential spiritual relations
of Human Nature. In all times the Soul has borne witness of Deity, of
a Law of Duty, of an invincible need of Immortality, as positive Facts.
And in perceiving these, it perceives the foundation of all higher
spiritual knowledge. As the authority on which these fundamental
truths are accepted, it must be adequate to accredit the truth into
which these unfold. And so it is as certain as it is indispensable,
that the natural faculties can be so enlightened, purified, and matured
that the Spiritual Consciousness shall become clear and healthful : able
to apprehend God, Duty, Immortality, in their nobler meanings, and
through a natural intimacy between these and the inmost personality
recognize their unquestionable truth by a kind of intuition, appropri-
ate to this higher sphere. In these maturer stages of Religious Belief,
the Soul also makes good its claim as the ultimate and adequate
Court of Appeal : ultimate, because we cannot possibly go behind the
testimony of those natural organs through which truth is apprehended ;
and adequate to certify truth, if certitude be not impossible in the
nature of things. And in its maturer experience it is fully aware of
this its jurisdiction, and asks no confirmation from sources external
to itself It knows that it cannot stand outside its own nature, nor
receive light from above except under the conditions of human vision ;
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Real and Imaginary Authority. 115
and it respects these conditions as legitimate and trustworthy. The
laws of our Nature are the voice of God. There is a natural Inspira-
tion, and there is no other.
Even if the Soul could fwt yield certitude, we should gain nothing
by the attempt to put a higher authority in its place. God has
enthroned it and made it alone His viceregent and interpreter, by
irreversible law. All Bibles, traditions, creeds, all Persons or per-
formances claimed to be * supernatural,* all assumed Infallibilities of
speech or record, must commend themselves to the natural faculties, be
judged by them, fall under their limitations and their laws, be lost in
them altogether as respects authority^ before they can be accepted. They
are accepted, if at all, only in such shape as the Spiritual Conscious-
ness gives them ; accepted, in other words, on its authority. And this
is true of every individual to whom they are presented, let it be ever
so vehemently denied.
The Religious Books, by which whole races have supposed their
faith divinely guaranteed of old, are really but threads on which they
have strung their own inspirations, imaginations and desires, as age
after age evoked these out of present needs. Not the thread, but
that which was hung upon it, was after all the substance of belie£
And the authority on which belief reposed, resided not in those Gods
of the Past who were supposed to have let down the sacred chain
£x>m their thrones ages ago, but in these living hands of the believer,
ivhich, inspired from above or from beneath, were daring to hang image
after image upon it after the likeness of the hour's wisdom or folly ;
daring, not because they were overbold, but because they had no
other choice ; because man cannot live by the dead Past ; because
he is a living Soul, and his God is a God of the living present Con-
sciousness. The Code of Manu never really formed the practical
rule of East Indian jurisprudence. Hindu law was the ever chang-
ing creation of Hindu character and circumstances, and the Law
Book was read in the light of these. The oldest Veda, whose every
syllable has been sacred for thousands of years, has never spoken its
original meaning to a single generation since it was made into a Book.
A thousand sects have been founded on its readings ; every sacred
syllable has hundreds of glosses ; every age and school has had its
own interpretation, claiming absolute authority. Hindu Law, Science,
Philosophy, Ethics, Life, all profess to be but expansions of that Divine
Text Yet in itself the simple old Hymn^-and-Prayer Book is mainly
innocent of them all. The so called * Law of Moses * was, in all proba-
bility, never practically carried into eflfect. As soon as it had been
brought together out of many ages, elaborated and enlarged by priestly
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exigencies, and accepted as the national code, it began to be a thread
for Rabbinical readings and interpretations: it refused no fancy,
speculation or adaptation, wise or mad, that was bom of later Jewish
brains. And the name of the Lawgiver was made to cover even the
transformation of the simple Unity oi his God into that multiplicity
of Divine Potences, in which the Gentile philosophies indulged.
The old Bibles, being of Nature, will hold all the meanings. The
cups that Love and Homage fill can never overflow. But it is the
growing Soul, pouring the ever new and ever larger libations, that
shapes the cup to its own desire as it pours.
A traditional faith, no less than a heretical one, rests on the
authority of the natural faculties ; and the difference is only in the
condition and treatment of these faculties. The traditionalist may
imagine that he has taken his belief on the "divine authority of
the Bible or the Church." He has really been decided by that
point of discernment at which his Spiritual Consciousness has arrived.
He has obeyed his own undeveloped religious senses. And be-
cause he does not know that his attempt to escape the necessity
of judging according to his spiritual state, b a failure, he suffers that
Consciousness which is the light or the darkness of all that is in
him, to remain crude, inert, enslaved, instead of quickening and un-
folding it by present light and duty. And so it lies gazing at a dead
Bible and a dead creed, self-condemned to inflict its own death on
that from which it is seeking life. And there is reaction as well as
action in this. For his conscience is none the less stifled and per-
verted by the errors of the Bible and the creed, for the reason that he
has taken them upon his own authority and interprets them by his
own state.
But I do not propose to dwell on the mischiefs of traditionalism,
except as illustrative of the law, that in all cases whatsoever, even
where it is most strenuously denied, we do and must believe on the
authority of our natural faculties ^ and on no other.
Much as Christians have insisted that they rest on an infallible Bible,
they have never really shaped their creeds by the Bible, i^^ether falli-
ble or infallible ; but always primarily by the actual condition of thingis
within and without themselves, putting their trust in this, and making
the Bible mean essentially what this demanded.
The traditional Theology of Christendom is not explicable from
the Bible. It was possible only in proportion as the life of Jesus had
receded into the past, and its record was beheld through the idealiz-
ing imagination. It originated in the speculations of bishops and
presbyters, men like Cyprian, Athanasius, and Augustin, and in the
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Real and Imaginary Authority. 117
pn^jessive development of postapostolic Christianity towards Catho-
lic Unity. It owed its acceptance in a great degree to the necessity
of ecclesiastical organization. It appealed to the State to lend it the
sanction of physical force. The evidence is conclusive that however
the Church might insist that the Bible was the sole foundation of its
belief and the anchor of its hope, it was from the beginning laying
foundations and resting its hope in something else. Reason, how-
ever misused, was all the while building the creeds, which report its
history more than they do the meaning of the Old Testament or the
New. They are even in many respects far more Aryan than Shemitic.
They bear the stamp of the Latin and of the Greek, rather than of
tiie Hebrew mind. The needs, aspirations, and practical efficiencies
of society, of church and state, were really the anchor of hope. The
God of Christian Belief was such a God as the condition of the
Christian world induced it to believe in ; and the authority of the
Bible was but an illusory name for the authority of the Spiritual Con-
sciousness. Bibliolatry was none the less a yoke of bondage : for
the limitations of the ancient Book could not but be transferred in
large measure to the minds of its worshippers, and all the more be-
cause the prevailing ignorance of this inalienable judicial function of
the soul caused the neglect of its capacities for light and freedom.
But though Bibliolatry could demoralize the natural faculties, it
could not supplant them by other foundations of Belief. It was itself
a practical confession of that appeal to then- authority which it pre-
verted, dishonored, and denied. They are the primitive rock on which
all other foundations rest. The appeal to them^ conscious or unconscious^
is the one inevUabU fact; an incarnate Word of God in Human His-
tory ; continually denied, yet continually bearing witness of itself on
the very lips that deny it. It is no modem speculation. It is the
li^t that lighteth every man that cometh into the world ; in the
world always, though the world knew it not
Follow on the historical track of this supposed " Authority of the
Bible." As soon as Bibliolatry was bom, Ecclesiolatry or Worship of
the Church, its twin brother, began to supplant it, in fact, if not in
name. The Worship of Tradition, which, in the Catholic Church, wax
a confession of the necessity of recognising wants the Bible had not mety
came at last to supplant and set it aside altogether. In the course
of eight or ten centuries we find Reformers justifying their assaults
on a Church which had begun in Bibliolatry, by the charge that it
had forgotten the claims of the Bible in the authority of human works
and human traditions. Little indeed did the Catholic Church believe
in the ^ble as the foundation of human faith. With all the errors
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of its doctrine conceming the authority of the Church, that doctrine at
least implied that the Spirit which it affirmed to be within the Bible
was also in Human Nature outside the Bible, and did not go out of the
world when the Canon was closed, but continued on with equal efficacy
and authority in the Spuritual Consciousness of every successive age.
The Protestant, for example, limits supernatural power to the blood of
Jesus. The Catholic finds the same kind of efficacy in the blood of
all saintly persons since. The Protestant shuts up the Miracle within
the Apostolic Age. The Catholic brings it down to meet the wants of
all ages as they come. It is of course manifest that this supericM* consis-
tency of the Catholic Church is obtained at the expense of an exclu-
sive authority of the Bible. And this has been her merit She actually
took up the defence of Natural Religion against the Protestantism of
Wiclif and Huss. Bishop Pecocke styled their folk>wers Bible Men,
and admonished them that they had forgotten the impossibility that
the Bible should add any new moral truths, or do more than help
confirm duties already known to human nature. So much for Cathol-
icism.
The essence of the Protestant theory was the authority of the Bible.
But the essence of its acHial procedure was the right of private judg-
ment in matters of belief The sum of the whole was tliis ; that by virtue
of that right certain persons chose to worship the Bible^ and to declare
it the sole authority on which belief could stand. But if it was sole
authority, what had authorized them to exercise private choice upon it ?
They had obeyed a necessity deeper than all theories or declarations
about the Bible. At the expense of consistency with their claim in its
behalf y they hctd followed the Spiritual Consciousness of their age. All
the while that Luther was persecuting Carlstadt for what he called
throwing away the Gospels, he was himself denouncing whatever he
disliked in the Bible in the name of private judgment And this set-
ting up the Bible against the freedom of private inquiry with one
hand, while the other is forced to plant the standard of that very free-
dom, is the shame of Protestantism at this day.
For what is Protestantism but the appeal to the free faculties of
htmian nature against irrational and outworn traditions ? And yet it
dares disparage those faculties and that Nature in the name of the
Bible 1 What enabled it to choose the Bible as its salvation, but that
very Reason whose claim to judge the Inspiration, the Miracles, the
Authority of the Bible each sect perpetually denies, when the decision
differs from its own ? What could be more perverse than attempting
to suppress the liberty which is its own vital force, and this in the
name of an authority which had no original weight in its own deter-
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Real and Imaginary Authority. 119
minations I Yet Protestantism persists in reiterating with intolerant
zeal that the Bible is the sole foundation of Faith, while the multiplic-
ity of its sects and the changing definitions of its dogma, are demon-
strating, every moment, that it rests on a wholly different founda-
tion, even the authority of its own maturing consciousness. Its very
intolerance is nothing but the detected limitation of its intellectual
and spiritual sight.
In the original appeal of Protestantism to the private judgment,
all right of appeal to the Bible as decisive authority perished, and all
actual pretense of its authority should have perished with the right of
appeal to it Nothing was left but private interpretations ; and its sup-
posed universal validity as a Law failed for the lack of a recognized
Court of Interpretation. Men were in reality thrown behind authori-
tative creed, inspired record, and official Christ, and called upon to take
counsel of their spiritual and intellectual faculties. Such is the sub-
stance of that revolution, however ignored or denied. No intermediate
ground is tenable. Either carry private judgment to its principle in
the immediate relation of the individual soul to truth, or else carry
the denial of private judgment to its principle in the submission of the
soul to absolute outward authority. Either in the soul or out of it is
the Rock of Ages. Protestantism chose the former alternative. The
other was indeed an impossibility ; an illusion which not even Cath-
olicism could maHe a reality. And when the Catholic charges the
Protestant with forsaking positive authority for the uncertainty of
mere private opmion, he proves his ignorance c^ the necessary laws
of mind, as well as of the process by which he has himself arrived at
his belief. One may enslave his private judgment by yielding himself
to the Catholic Church ; but how does he thereby escape the lim-
itations of his private judgment ? What interprets the teachings of
the Church for him save his own faculties, the very same fallacious
powers which he dared not trust with Protestant liberty? Will Catho-
lic slavery improve them? If they cannot be trusted to interpret
God's revelations to his soul, can they be trusted to interpret God's
revelations to the Church ? But suppose we grant that the Church
has had the gift of infallibility. Of what use is this, if it must be run
throu^ the distorting lenses of his capacities and character, before it
reaches his soul ? Or can a doctrine reach the soul without such tran-
sition and the assimilation it involves ? Can a brutish person, who
is not able and does not care, to read the name on the ballot he
is told to deposit at the polls, be enabled to see truth by virtue of the
infallibility of his Church ? Or can an intellectual man, who cannot
read thought otherwise than his peculiar genius prescribes, lay aside
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I20 The Radical.
its peculiarities in the one instance of his relations to his infallible
Church, and see her doctrine purely through her eyes ?
Our spiritual faculties are closer to us than a Bible or a Christ
According to their condition of development we judge all persons and
things. They are our Mediator : God can speak to us only through
their testimony. On them we rest, our sole authority, whether they
be free or enslaved ; and the more thoroughly we accept the fact, the
more likely shall we be to see clearly, to reach unquestionable cer-
tainty. As the Christian world advances, it comes to the practical
confession of this in Protestantism.
There were indeed earlier confessors of it, some of them more clear-
sighted and consistent in their acceptance than the Reformers, who
were historically theh- children. Luther but made imperfect practical
application to the Church of what the philosophy and mysticism of
the Middle Ages had been dreaming out For all great reforms
b^n in the dreams of speculative men, who turn away from the husks
of pretended authority to brood over the mysteries of their own souls,
and find God the nearest of all realities. Luther himself confesses
that he owed his spiritual liberty in no small degree to the mystics of
the preceding centuries. The class of minds of jyhich Tauler and
the author of the Theologia Germanica are the best known represen-
tatives, were the fathers of the Reformation. These men did not
know how radical they were. They seem scarcely aware how abso-
lutely they had accepted the fact that the soul has immediate access
to spiritual certainty. They used the old phraseology of Hble-wor-
ship : they called Jesus God, and the Bible the Word of God, and
even quoted John as final authority. But this was only looseness of
expression, a verbal dress they had forgotten to throw aside. You
can see by the sweet intimacy and grand assurance of their commu-
nion with the living Spirit, that their meaning goes to the reality of
God's immediate teaching, and to the authority of their own i^iritual
intuitions.
Then back of these were Nominalists and Realists, the scholastic
philosophers who battled over the abstruse formulas of essential Being,
and argued in all possible forms the abstract question of the relation
of Reason to Faith. They believed themselves orthodox ; but they had
&r more reliance on the formulas of Aristotle than on the texts of
Scripture. Theh- feet were on the floors of the Intellectual Con-
sciousness of their Age, not at all on the Bible platform. This Scho-
lasticism, the main business of the Middle Age theologians, was a
profoundly earnest study of the Abstract Laws of Human Thought
Verbose and dreamy as they were, they pursued it in the most unlim-
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Real and Imaginary Authority. 121
ited trust in the divine inspiration of those organic processes which
they were striving to comprehend. No Bibliolater ever had so in-
tense a faith in the Infallibility of the Bible as these pioneers of
modern Theology and Philosophy had in the capacity of the Intellectual
and Spiritual Constitution of Man, rightly understood and used, to
yield certitude in the investigation of truth, and the aspiration after eter-
nal life. So that long before Luther's day the necessity of final appeal
to this transcendent testimony was bravely accepted, even by men who
imagined themselves to be devout believers in Bible Authority. It is
remarkable that so large a portion of the Protestant world should
even now cling to their old delusion, yet fail of the unconscious cour-
age which redeemed and almost neutralized it
How can the Quaker hold that the Bible is the Court of Final Ap-
peal, in face of his claim to an Inward Light by which he is taught
what the Bible means ? Surely the interpreter, not the thing inter-
preted, is the ultimate authority. How can the Swedenborgian
maintain that doctrine in face of the fact that an inspiration more
original and profound than that of his ' Divine Word * must be assum-
ed both in Swedenborg and himself, to justify the deduction from that
Word of his doctrines of correspondence and the triple sense ? Or
what can the Universalist mean by the final authority of the Bible,
who dares to say, on the authority of his own critical faculty alone,
that the Bible does not teach eternal punishment ? Or what shall we
say of the Unitarian, who, after having rejected the miraculous concep-
tion recorded in two Gospels, and denied the strengthening angel in
Gethsemane, and the healing angel at the Pool of Bethesda, and the
resurrection of saints at the crucifixion, after having expunged the
opening chapters of Matthew's Gospel and the closing verses of John's,
and cast the Second Epistle of Peter out of the canon — denounces
Strauss and Baur, and the historical school of Biblical critics generally,
as undermining the foundations of Religious Belief, and jealously
guards " the miraculous element in the Bible " against the assaults of
the Anti-Supernaturalist, as guarantee of an indispensable authority
therein ! Or how shall the Liberal build his " Broad Church " on a
* Lord and Master,' on whose words and life he passes judgment, as
he would on those of Plato or of Pius Ninth.
The • testimony on this matter is all one way. The affirmation of
all transcendental religious philosophy, from Abelard and Bruno
down to Emerson and Parker and the free Theism of this day, that
there is no stable basis of authority but the Spiritual Consciousness, is
proved even by the unconscious confession of its opponents, both on
the Catholic and Protestant sides. It is vain to deny this foundation
2
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122 ' The Radical.
with the lips. It is senseless to degrade and demoralize it in our-
selves by enslavement to traditions. It cannot be undermined; it
cannot be supplanted. And it is what our lives make it According
as we respect our own freedom or deny it, we build on the Rock or
on the Sand.
This necessity of trusting the actual testimony of the natural facul-
ties according to their present condition, resolves itself, in an earnest
mind, into a reliance on that immutable Constitution of the Souly whereof
these faculties are the expression ; that whereby it knows, judges, loves,
prays.; that which alone makes Life and Death, God and Man, Nature
and Book and Church in any sense ^realities. Behind this we
cannot go. God must speak to us through its conditions, or not at
all : else we must cease to be men and women before we can hear
our Father's voice. We must confide in this, not as we do in the
eye and the ear, not even as we do in the uniformity of physical Nature,
but more implicitly and profoundly ; because it is on the fidelity of
its testimony alone that this evidence of the senses rests. It is nearer
than the senses. It is our very being, not our work. It is God's per-
petual Creation : its laws the brightness of His everlasting Light : its
immortal faculties the Image of His Goodness : its essential needs
the clear calls of His Holy Spirit : its aspirations the affinities which
prove that He has made us for Himself.
The imperfect degree in which we may, as individuals, appreciate
this Constitution of our Nature does not prove that we must seek else-
where for a foundation of certitude : since other foundation there is
none, whether supernatural or preternatural. It proves that we must
make our appreciation of it deeper and fuller by every means of spir-
itual cultiu*e which our times afford. We are to see to it that none of
these faculties on whose free and natural growth all certainty must
depend, is suppressed, defrauded, or enslaved. We must see that
they are respected, as the legitimate organs of inspiration. Only as
we know their laws, experience their organic needs, trust their best
aspirations, can anything divine find response within us. In this
sense it was said that only the pure in heart shall see God. It is not
the acceptance of a book or a person as supernatural that shall make
us pure ; but reverently to search out and fearlessly to follow every
spiritual need. Oiu- vision is not purged nor our faith assured by the
mere knowledge of what was said or done or beheld of old, but by
recognising and meeting every fresh demand of mind, conscience and
will, awakened through present light and opportunity.
Every one must judge according to the present state of his Spiritual
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Consciousness. But he really relies on the sure authority of the
Spiritual Constitution only when he impartially and freely unfolds its
natural faculties as the source of aU religious knowledge concerning God
and Man.
Now this is precisely what the traditional Theologies, in all their
varieties, forbid. Their error is not in insisting on implicit faith.
This is the necessity of the Religious Sentiment Just as it is the
first condition of physical life that we trust the evidence of the senses,
and of intellectual that we trust the soundness of the intellectual
faculties, so it is the first necessity of spiritual life that we put implicit
fcUth in the soundness of the Spiritual Organization of Man. The error
of the traditional Theologies is that they insist on implicit faith not
in this, but in something outside of this, something which in the
name of a higher authority than it is believed to possess, outrages
and enslaves it Their theory is that our Spiritual Nature is, in one
sense or another, incapable of seeing or of guaranteeing truth : —
either altogether unworthy of credence, the view of the Evangelical
sects ; or else inadequate to serve as sole authority in spiritual things, the
view of the Liberal sects. A Supernatural Revelation, involving of
course a supernatural tradition, in either case becomes necessary. How
this, supposing it possible, is to give us absolute truth when the organs
through which each mind is to receive it are incapable of accrediting
it, does not appear. If, on the other hand, they are capable of accred-
iting truth, we manifestiy want no other than natural sight to give us
positive knowledge.
There is but one confession on which a supematuralist can
consistently stand ; and it just amounts to final annihilation of
confidence between Man and his Maker. It is this. The spir-
itual organization is a failure. It has to be condemned and set
aside ; the truth is not in it, and a new name has to be invented for
the new power by which our Nature is to be supplanted. Here then
is properly the end of all religious trust For how do we know but the
new nature will cheat us like the old ? — But the supematuralist explains
himself fiirther. He is bound to insist that the natural faculties are
in natural antagonism, and their fi-eedom is their inevitable strife and
mutual destruction. Reason is an enemy in the household, and must
either be expelled by Faith or else contradicted till it confesses itself
a natural fool and fit only to remain such. Faith without evidence or
against evidence, faith against the familiar laws of reason, faith 2LSuIh
stitute for reason, in one form or another, acknowledged or disguised,
— this then is the authority introduced in place of a natural confidence
in the Spiritual Constitution, and the perpetual inspiration of its laws.
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124 The Radical.
What, it may well be asked, can we possibly gain by assuming a nat-
ural contradiction in the operation of those forces in which we live,
and move, and have our being ? What do we not lose when we charge
the Indwelling God with foolishness, and would secede from the juris-
diction of laws whereof Sinai gave but a feeble echo, and Olivet even
told not all the grandeur ?
We affirm that God binds the human faculties in sweetest brotherhood.
He made a white ray of many blended colors, and bade us see by it
our way to blessedness, and climb by its gradual ascents, knowledge
beyond knowledge, love beyond love, forever. He pronounces it for-
ever good, and f(»:bids that we who did not make, should mar it by
suppressing one of those blended rays. Sin never spoiled His original
intent, nor inverted the structure He set on the foundatk)ns of liberty
and love. Apostacy never forfeited for any human faculty the claim
to essential confidence and freest culture. If it has done so, nothing
can reinstate us ; we stand in no vital and reliable relation to Truth ;
we are imsubstantial as shifting shadows, and protean as dreams. In
the trustworthiness of Reason is founded the possibility of reaching
Truth. If the eye be unreliable, the whole body shall be full of dark-
ness. I do not forget that the understanding has its limits, and re-
quires to be supplemented by the further evidences of Faith. But
this, in the sense already explained in this discouru^ is a perfectly
natural and rational relation. The doctrine I oppose affirms natural
elations to be inadequate and mutually destructive. The essence of
Supernaturalism is to affirm an antagonism in Human Nature^ recon-
cilable only by special interference from without. What God has
joined it thus pretends to put asunder even in His Name.
The first divorce it insists on effecting is between Reason and Faith.
And the reply we make is that a true postulate of Faith cannot possibly
be contrary to Natural Reason, nor even to the understanding natu-
rally applied. It may be unfathomable by the understanding : it
may require a heartier and more vital glow of appreciation than can
be accorded even by the Transcendental Reason : but that can be
neither reason nor understanding which denies it Nor can that be
genuine Faith which insults these by demanding the acceptance of
things naturally irrational and impossible in the name of Supernatu-
ral Revelation.
And this divorce between Reason and Faith is but a side-crack of
that essential gulf whkh the Supematuralist puts between God and
Man. With more or less consistency he reasons upon the premiss that
Human Nature is apart from God, and even against God. Man is
here, God there ; aad his impossibk task is to bridge the gulf: im-
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Real and Imaginary Authority. 125
possible, because to separate Man from God, is to annihilate Man.
All our possibility not of Religion only, but of Being, rests on the
Presence of God in Man as the Law and the Life of his Spiritual Or-
ganization ; not its inalienable integrity only, but its continued exis-
tence even, being inconceivable without a divine impartation. Fitly
might we say, that the war of a consistent Supematuralism against
Human Natiure is a war to the death. Its confessed purpose indeed
is to strip the Human of all good, that the glory of the Divine, as dts-
tinctfrom the Human, may be the greater in saving it As if it were
possible or desirable to save that from which all good either has been
or can be subtracted ; nay, as if that which is emptied of good ware
not also thereby emptied of being.
The divorces between God and Man, Reason and Faith, are fol-
lowed by others between the Nature of Man and the Nature of Je^us
as his Saviour ab-extray and between the Bible and all other books.
Of course Jesus and the Bible must be made as different as possible
from a Godless Human Nature, as distinct as God Himself, or they
cannot be divine. That necessity of a superhuman ' Christ,' and a
supernatural Bible, and a machinery of miracles and prophecies for
the attestation thereof, which in some form or other, directly or by im-
plication, is asserted in all the recognized creeds, goes back, as to its
principle, to this same dbparagement of the natural constitution of the
Soul. It points directly to the monstrous fiction of a race cut off from
God, whose nature is incapable of finding and authenticating truth.
The belief in an official Mediator, through whom alone Man derives
assured and saving knowledge of God — in whatever liberalized form
it may exist, and however it may deny the parentage, can find no logi-
cal premiss short of that frightful dogmatic gulf, which has no bottom,
and which no bridge can span. These expedients of supematuralistic
doctrine cannot cross the abyss thus posited, between Godlessness
and God. There is no possibility of spiritual mechanism that shall
unite Absolute Yea and Absolute Nay.
There is no such gulf to span, and can be none. God is with Man,
and the Bibles and * Saviours ' are but helps to the recognition of
the fact They can be so only on condition that their nature is iden-
tical with ours, that they are noble expressions thereof, and show its
self-recovering sanity, its natural inspiration. They must bear witness
for and not against Nature, and prove the Spiritual Constitution not
imtrustworthy, but divine.
The God in Jesus appeals to the God in every one, as deep to deep.
He could not be in Jesus, if he were not in Humanity, in every mem-
ber thereof, behind the rude stunted faculties, beyond the mournful
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126 The Radical.
delusions, beyond the sin, as the immanent indefeasible Light and
Life. Do you say it is this very Indwelling Light that makes you
sure Jesus is the supernatural Way of Life? Look a little deeper.
Is not He who can teach you that, Himself a nearer way } And
why should He who can teach and assure you in the highest matters
through your nature^ resort to other ways of access, even were it pos-
sible to do so ? Frankly accept the fact too that all Inspiration of the
Bible is conditioned on that of the Human Mind, which interprets it,
and that no truth can become divine by reason of its being recorded
therein. What is divine there is so because of its own nature, and \^
is divine to us because the nature of the Soul fits it to recognize the
Divine as of like substance with itself. Truth, Justice, Love were first
holy in Man before the Bible was writ, or no man could have recog-
nized them in the Bible, nor would the Bible ever have contained them.
They will be dear and awful to his Soul long after all words as yei
written shall have dwindled before the grandeur of his destiny.
So then it is to this, that, after all devices and dreams of Infallible
Masters, we must come back. We can easily prove to the worshipper
of ' Supernatural ' Authority, — whether in the Bible, the Church, the
Miracle or the Christ — who fears to trust in his own moral, intellectual,
spiritual nature as such, that he has never in his life had any other ul-
timate foundation to rest on than this Very " Naturalism " he dreads
and decries. All we here ask in the name of Natural Religion is that
he shall accept and honor that whereby alone he can behold God and
find Eternal Life.
NOT IN WORD.*
BY W. H. FURNESS.
" The Kingdom of God is not in Word, but in Power."— i Cor. iv : 20.
THIS is so obvious, my firiends, it is so plain that profession is nothing
without practice, that it is not what is said, but personal force, which
is of value in religion, that it seems hardly worth while to cite these words
of Paul, or, at least to dwell upon them at any length. If we are in danger
of mistaking the word for the thing, and the authority of an Apostle be re-
quired to save us from the mistake, it would be enough, one would think,
just to hint at the apostolic declaration. But we ought not to be in any
* A Discourse preached during the Session of the Episcopal Convention, in
Philadelphia, October, 1865.
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Not in Word. 127
danger of making this mistake. It is high time that we were beyond it al-
together. Little children, perhaps, may still be liable to give undue weight
to words, with no experience of the world or of human nature ; and with
their characteristic fecility of faith, it is not to be accounted very wonderful
if they suffer themselves to be imposed upon, and deluded into believing,
that the glorious kingdom of God is in word. But that grown up, intelli-
gent, cultivated people, in this period of the world's history, here and now
especially, after the searching experience which we have just passed through,
should be found magnifying the word, the letter, as if it were all in all, and
everything else on earth and in heaven, every feeling of patriotism, every
dictate of justice and humanity, the sacred, fundamental, eternal, distinctions
of right and wrong, were to be sacrificed to it, almost passes belief, though
the fact stands visible right before our eyes. It is apparent that, self-evi-
dent as is the declaration of Paul, there is hardly the slightest surmise of its
meaning. Were it the profoundest proposition of philosophy, nay, if it were
expressed in an unknown tongue, people could hardly seem to be less aware
of its significance.
The kingdom of God then, be it known, is not in one word or in any
number of words ; not in words spoken, though they be articulated with
the utmost solemnity, and repeated in the most sanctimonious tones, and
under the most imposing formalities every first day of the week, or never
so many times every day, year in and year out, from the cradle to the grave ;
yes, and though they first fell fi-esh and burning from the lips of inspiration,
and have been sung by generation after generation, and have built them-
selves into churches and cathedrals without number, and have got them-
selves printed millions of times over, the kingdom of God is not in them.
Here is a truth which it seems we have not yet attained unto, a primary
lesson yet to be learned. The word is not the thing, but only the sign of
the thing. And all signs are symbols, be they articulate sounds, or printed
characters in Prayer books and Bibles, 6r be they genuflexions, baptisms,
sacraments, creeds, liturgies, are only words. They are not the thought,
the life, the power, but only the language in which thought, life, power tries
to express itself. The letter of all books of the Bible with the rest, is one
thing, the spirit, another. The forms of thought and worship of all denomi-
nations over all the face of the earth, of all and every one are one thing, and
be they ever so true, the kingdom is not in them. They are the feeble, in-
adequate, outward signs.
The truth is, such is our infirmity, we are continually putting the signs in
the place of the thing signified, mistaking the finite word for the infinite
power, the definition for the indefinable.
And we all know how this happens. At the first glimmering of intelli-
gence, the child observes those to whom he looks up as to God, repeating
certain forms of speech with great seriousness of tone and manner, main-
taining, in short, a certain form of Religion so called : and long, long before
he is capable of so much as a conjecture of what it all means, he has learned
to connect with this proceeding a feeling of awe, a sense of sacredness, and
all his best afiOections gather round it A thousand influences are at work
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128 The Radical.
to prepossess his mind with an exaggerated idea of the importance of that
form, that word^ with which he has thus become acquainted. It matters
nothing to him, as to his attachment to it, whether he have any rational un-
derstanding of it or not, whether or not it suggest any idea to him. It affects
him, not through what it specially and theologically signifies, but through
his filial love, his home affections ; and soon through the mighty force of
habit. And every man that lives, loves to do as he is accustomed to do, and
hates to do differently.
Thus it is that men are found everywhere clinging to forms of feith, so
called, with which they are connected by no rational tie whatever, by noth-
ing partaking in the slightest degree of intelligent personal conviction. It
is all a matter of feeling and mere use and want They have not what de-
serves to be called a thought about it. They never inquire, never dream
of asking what it signifies. Thus it is that forms of Religion kill or stifle,
or crystalize the sensibility, the intelligence of men, and then keep their
place in the world, not by any authority of right reason, not by virtue of any
significance that they possess. That has perished out of them, gone to
dust long ago, leaving them empty shells, and mouldering shells too. But
men have become attached to them, and used to them, and have made
them their religion. And this is so much easier than thinking and deciding,
every man for himself, and incurring all sorts of perplexities in consequence,
that these empty hulls, this religion of words and phrases, is all the more ar-
dently cherished, and it has come to pass, that one of the chief attractions
of some churches that we know of is, that they offer a retreat, picturesque
and profound, from all mental conflicts and difiSculties, where the soul is
lulled to sleep with a musical monotone, and need never trouble itself with
politics or religion.
Such is the way in which men come to see and to persist in seeing the
kingdom of God in words, in a name ; in fine, in the Church, which at the
best, is a dim symbol of things which can never be expressed in words.
If there be any quarter, one would think, to which all the world's best in-
terests, when they are imperilled, miglit look with confidence for prompt,
vigorous, effectual aid, it is to the churches, to the Religion of the land ; for
it is obviously and indisputably the office and aim of religion, of the Chris-
tian religion at all events, to make men humane, just, hearty lovers and ser-
vants of whatever tends to alleviate the miseries of men, and to help human
progress. Of what earthly use is it, if it does not do this ?
But, strange to see and to say, as it is organized into denominations and
churches, it is always found doggedly standing right in the light of the soul,
as if that were its position appointed by Providence, never lifting a finger to
break any chain, or ejaculating a " thank God " when any chain is broken.
And why is it so ? Whence this monstrous perversion ? Whence but
from the infatuation of which I speak. People arc besotted with the fancy
that the kingdom of God is in word, in some symbol of doctrine, some mode
of worship, in this or that ecclesiastical organization, which has taken shape
in brick, brownstone, and granite, in personal titles, in liturgies, rubrics and
canons, and black gowns and white, all covered with such sanctity as time
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Not in Word. 129
weaves over them, all decorated with the attractions of wealth, fitshion and
numbers. The maintainance of some structure of this sort — which if it is
good for an3rthing it is only as a scaffolding-^the support of such a structure
is made the prime concern, transcending all other interests, the veritable
kingdom of God. Nothing is to be countenanced, no truth, though it were
to come straight down from the eternal heavens, that threatens or appears
to threaten its stability. The winds must not blow, the law of gravitation
must be denounced, if it endanger the peace of the Church. The most hor-
rible oppression that the world has ever witnessed, may stir up the bloodi-
est of rebellions, and drench a land with the blood of its noblest citizens,
and darken thousands of homes with the gloom of the most agonizing be-
reavements, but no note must be taken of the fact ; it must be denied in the
fece of God himselii if the Church is likely to be disturbed by the acknowl-
edgment of it. Those New York ex-governors, in the Episcopal Conven-
tion, did actually deny it in so many words, that slavery had anything to do
with our late trouble, except incidentally. Why did they not deny that
there had been any slavery in the land — any Rebellion ? They might as well.
But I suppose they would concede that there was a divine institution here
designed for the christianizing of the African race. Justice, simple, natural
justice, the application of the vital principle of the New Testament, the de-
liverance of millions from the yoke of bondage, must all be stigmatised as
worldly politics, branded as irreligion, to be shunned and abhorred, sooner
than the sanctity of the letter, the peace of an idolized Church, should be in-
fringed.
It is humiliating to witness this thing. It cries shame, I say not upon
our religion, but upon the common intelligence of mankind.
But although it is just at this moment showing itself in an aggravated
form, it is not peculiar to any one denomination, remember. We are all in
danger of magnif3ring our word, and thinking the Kingdom of God is in it,
and £uicying all outside of it, outlaws and outcasts. Attaching an undue
worth to our peculiar forms, we shrink from speaking out our honest thought
We temporize 'and suppress the conviction of truth, lest our Church lose
ground. There is, among the recognized and established denominations,
hardly a simpler word than Unitarianism ; and yet how often have its pro-
fessors shrunk from plain truth, for fear of making the liberal Church still
more unpopular than it is ! Did we not cast out Theodore Parker from our
communion, because in word he differed from us, while in power — in power
in which the true Kingdom of God is — he went for before us all ? Not
that his honesty and ability and devotedness — in one word, his power was
ever called in question. That was seen and known of all men, but then his
word was accounted dangerous to the peace and security of our word. The
most liberal, the simplest modes of religion so called, are, not indeed as much
(matters would' be desperate if they were,) but they are as truly, liable as
the most orthodox, to exaggerate the value of mere words ; to beguile peo-
ple into so magnifying an organization, that they will be ready to suppress
thoughts however true, and discourage measures, however wise and humane,
that threaten to disturb it
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130 The Radical. '
And this concern for our house of cards, the little castle of words and forms
that we have built up, and in which we bring ourselves to believe that the
interests of the Universe, the regalia of the divine kingdom, are preserved —
into what rank cowardice does it grow 1 I have no doubt that in this Epis-
copal Convention, which is making such an exhibition of itself in the eyes
of grown up men and women, if every man would speak out plainly his own
mind, and be simply true to himself^ those who are unwilling that the
Church should thank God that the wicked cause of the Rebellion is abol-
ished, so far from being in a majority of two to one, would be reduced to a
despicable minority. My respect for the common intelligence of human
nature forbids me to think otherwise.
But intelligence, common sense and common feeling — everything was
paralyzed by the one apprehension, the one fear for the prosperity of their
sect We have witnessed the same thing over and over again in this our
day. What has been more common, in times which the memory of the oldest
among us is not taxed to remember, than to hear one and another protest :
" Such and such things do not disturb me. I can listen to them with per-
fect composure. But then there are those among us, in our Church, whom
they do excite, and if these things are said and urged, it will make trouble ! "
And this ground has often times been taken by so many — so many have in-
sisted that they do not condemn unpalatable truth, that it has been a puzzle
to find out who they are, and where they are, on whose account such num-
bers are so solicitous. I cannot but think that most of those who helped
to swell that most miserable vote in the Convention the other day, were and
are most heartily thankful that an end has come to the " sum of all villain-
ies ; '' but then there floated before their minds the vision of the Episcopal
Church all over the South, and of the thousands who would be offended and
enraged by any condemnatory allusion to the God and man-defying iniquity,
in behalf of which they wilfully and deliberately plunged the nation into a
most bloody war ; and then the Church would be split in two. The Church,
the Church, the hollow Word — this is their weakness, their infatuation.
Their Church is a splendid affair, as churches go — not up to the Roman
Catholic to be sure, but quite a loud sounding word, and musical withal.
What with its numbers, and fashion, and wealth, and costly edifices dotting
the land, it certainly makes a show and noise, but, judged by the proceed-
ing of this convention, it has no more life, human life in it, than any other
castle of clouds.
The good which is to result from the conduct of this Convention is that
all must see that the Kingdom of God is not in word. The lesson needs
constant reiteration. I think it is having its effect among all intelligent men.
We shall get the truth by heart, by and by.
The Kingdom of God is in power, in the divine force of justice and human-
ity, in the power of that generous patriotism which just now inspired thou-
sands to offer themselves willing sacrifices to wounds and cruel imprison-
ment, and bloody death, for the sake of their country and the large liberty
which this country represents as no other has ever done ; in the power of
that humane sentiment, which prompted the people to pour out their wealth
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I^ot in Word. 131
like water, to mitigate the suffering and horrors of war, and which made no
difference between loyalist and rebel, but accounted both brothers when
they lay bleeding on the same battle-field ; in the power of that sympathy
which has been set flowing, and which I trust in God is to grow every day
deeper and broader, submerging the prejudices of race and the distinction
of color, and swelling onward to lift up the long oppressed to a full partici-
pation in the roydl prerogatives of our sacred nature. Here it is, in these
things, that the moral government of the world, the descent of the Holy
Ghost, the coming of Christ, the glorious Kingdom of God, has been made
manifest, as seldom before, since the foundation of the world.
How many millions of times during the war, was the prayer repeated by
young and old, morning and night, in churches and in our homes : " Our
Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name ! Tfy kingdom comeP"*
But the prayer was only a word. The Kingdom of God was not in it !
The Kingdom of God in it ! Why it has been repeated without a thought,
letting alone the Kingdom of God. Men, having eyes to see, and ears to
hear, claiming to be Masters in Israel, have caught not one ray of the light
which has streamed down fi-om the Kingdom of God into the hut of the
slave ; they have not heard the faintest whisper of the angel-harmonies that
announce the advent of a new era. And now that the bloody struggle has
ended in the triumph of the country, and of Freedom, they find nothing to
thank Heaven for in the abolition of the foulest wrong that ever afflicted
mankind, and which alone nerved the parricidal arms that were lifted against
our native land. Come, Kingdom of Light, and scatter this darkness, we
pray.
How preposterous is it for any religious denomination, any Church, ever
to think of justifying its insensibility to the rights and wrongs of mankind by
pleading that it has nothing to do with politics ! With poh'tics so called,
vitally implicating the comfort, the security, the peace and happiness of na-
tions, every Church has to do, and cannot help having to do with them.
When these interests are agitating the whole body politic, the question, the
only question possible in the nature of things, which every Church is com-
pelled to settle, and which it can by no possibility escape, is : Will it take
sides with Justice and Liberty, or against these most religious interests of
the world? If it decides to stand dumb before it — if it shuts its eyes and
refuses to look at it — if it keeps its lips tightly closed and refuses to speak
to it, why then its silence speaks, and no man can mistake the import of
that ; and the upholders of wrong take refuge and fortify themselves
under the authority of that silence, and cry, " Since the Church, since
Religion, does not rebuke us, who is he that condemneth ? " Who will venture
to affirm that the great Episcopal Church, so far as it is to be understood by
its official action, is to be ranked on the side of the country and its Free
Institutions? Who questions where it stands politically? It might as
well have spoken at once outright for slavery, and for the Rebellion. Its
refusal to speak is more telling than any words. Thus in making the
impossible attempt to avoid meddling with politics, it has plunged into them
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132 The Radical.
overhead. It is found exerting a political influence which will harm nothing
so much as its own evangelical character and prospects.
Happily, we all know too many loyal men and women of that denomination
— too many of iits members, who are ranged on the side of Freedom, to be
compelled to consider this official vote as representing the body of that Com-
munion. Thank God ! we are not forced to rest in any such conclusion.
My friends, seeing what we see, how prone men are to exalt the sign to
the entire forgetfulness of the thing signified, are we not excusable if our
dread of anything like an ecclesiastical organization of the liberally disposed,
is in danger of running into excess ? With the experience of the last thirty
years, with all that is now passing|before our eyes, I do most cordially mis-
trust everything of the sort. It doubtless promotes the growth of a sect,
helps it to flourish ; namely, to build Churches, and accomplish all its denom-
inational measures, but let people become active and interested in organiz-
ing, and inevitably they magnify their little method, and see the Kingdom
of God only there ; or if they still see it elsewhere, yet the capitol of the
kingdom is within their nominal precincts. So far as the agency of the
churches has been concerned in bringing about this day of promise, where
is the sect, orthodox or liberal, that has not, as such at least, stood aloof,
and by standing aloof^ obstructed the progress of Freedom ? It is outside of
the Church, outside the associated action of religious bodies, that the power
has arisen which has wrought this great change. So it always has been.
Not in the Temple at Jerusalem and from among the Jewish doctors of divin-
ity and law, but in the far off^ mean Nazareth, is it that the brightest light
that has ever broken upon the world from the evercoming kingdom, dawned;
and no clerical dignity attached to the person of him who brought that
light, but he was dragged away, heaped with imprecations as an irreligious
man and blasphemer. . That no flesh may boast in the divine presence, and
as if to show the folly of human wisdom, it is always in some low, dark
place, in some unthought of quarter, where no time-honored associations
gather to invest it, that the truth, which is the power of God to the salva-
tion of men, first appears. Keep eye and heart open. Watch, for at times
and in places that we think not of, the great Kingdom comes. Let no
forms of words or of thought so hedge us round and absorb our attention
that we cannot see the truth as it is laying the foundations, broad and deep,
of the eternal empire of God. Let no word of ours so fill our ears and pre-
possess our minds that we cannot hear the still, small, angel voices speaking
— perhaps in a new tongue, but intelligible to every free and earnest soul,
as they announce the royal coming. Fond and endearing as the ties are
that bind us to the word of our childhood and our fathers, nothing surpasses,
nothing can approach, the exceeding beauty and blessedness of God's own
truth. Inexhaustible are its inspirations, all purifying is its influence,
almighty to guide, to guard, to console.
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"The true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world."
John, i : 9.
In Israel's fane, the Priest of ol*
In glowing mitre sought the shrine ;
His ephod's broad, empurpled fold,
With cunning work embroidered fine.
In azure vest
Of byssus dressed,
Besprent with golden clasp and gem ;
And censer swung
And fumed, and rung
The bells of gold that fringed his hem.
But chief, above his heart was bound
The jewelled breast-plate, folded square ;
And oft — or so the tale — 'twas found
The "Elohim" descended there.
For beryl bright,
And chrysolite,
And sardines flushed like dawn^ oft poured
With fiery ray 1
And Aaron aye
" Bore judgment " thus before the Lord.
Thee, Man of Now, no hand hath graced
With Aaron's breast-plate, God-controlled;
Yet on thy heart is "judgment" placed,
Not less than on the priest of old.
From emerald's lip,
And sapphire's deep,
No tinted gush of God-sent might 1
But from thy soul
Abroad doth roll
Such holy force and fall of light 1
From thine — from all 1 the bigot's hedge,
Where God would have unbroken meads,
Hath parcelled off With thorough edge
We cut the pales that part the creeds.
Each Pagan scheme,
Great Truth, we deem
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134 The Radical.
Some lisp of thee, not Folly's lie ;
Like plot o'erlaid
Too thick with shade,
Whose healthful crops come scant thereby.
Wild Sybils — who mid grotto dim
In panting rhapsody do speak,
Ye Cymric bards, who pour the hymn
Before your lichened altars bleak,
And Guebre saint,
Whose soul doth faint,
While Sirius bands his troop of stars.
And Priest who turns
From brimming urns
Libation pure to Jove or Mars, —
God's crude and green-hewn torches ye !
That foul his flame with drift of smoke,
That show his ray but glimmeringly ;
Yet nought avails the light to choke.
The frenzied dance,
The mystic Chants,
The saga screamed through wintry wood
By Odin's child,—
All, worship wild!
All, broken homage of the Good I
O stream 1 for whose so plenteous tide.
Old Aaron's gems poor conduits are;
Most sweet! indeed thy bounty wide
Sent full through zones and cycles far,
Doth David bless.
And Pythoness,
And prophet hoar, and all but thou :
The mellower gush.
And holier rush
Hast in thy heart, O Man of Now!
J. K. HOSMER.
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DO MEN NEED SALVATION?
BY C. IL WHIPPLE.
What is « Salvation ? "
Unless we have an accurate idea of what it is, we cannot talk or think
understandingly about it
The Church's earliest direction to those who are outside its pale is to
attend first, and most earnestly, and above all things else, to the saving of
their souls.
How comes it that their souls need to be saved ?
The Church answers, " Because they are lost, lost^ Lost."
From what do they need to be saved ?
The Church answers, " From hell, from eternal fire, the inevitable doom
of all who are not savedJ^
Looking further into the matter, we find it maintained by the Church that
this " hell " and this awful " doom " have been established by God. Inquiring
further about God, we learn from the Church that he is the Creator of all
men, and thus their Father ; and that he practically shows himself their
Father to this extent, namely, he takes providential care of them in this
world, and gives e^ch of them a chance to be " saved " from the hell which
he himself has established beyond the grave, and provides eternal happiness
for such as are " saved," remaining truly their Father forever ; but that to
the immense number of persons who are not " saved " he ceases to be a
Father as soon as their bodies die, and acts toward them with dreadful
severity, precisely as their worst enemy would do, thenceforth, forever.
All this is really the doctrine taught by an immense majority, say ninety-
nine in a hundred, of all the Churches in the world that call themselves
Christian. That which is above described is what all the clergy of these
churches teach, and what all the attendants on them receive, as the mean-
ing of the word " salvation."
In this country, where true Christianity and reason have made more pro-
gress, the proportion is less. Perhaps only nineteen in twenty of the
churches that call themselves Christian teach this horrible doctrine. But
this is still an immense majority. And all the clergy of these churches
teach as true, and all the attendants on them receive as true, that which
is above described as the meaning of the word " salvation."
What is to be said of the representation thus made by the churches ?
If we look at it in the light of that reason which the true God, the real
Father, gave to be our guide, and in the light of those sympathies and affec-
tions which He, the dear Father, has implanted in the heart of each one of
us, we shall be constrained, by the force of truth, to take the following posi-
tions, namely : —
The assumptions upon which this Church idea of " salvation " stands are
a mass of fifdsehood. Of course, a proportion of undeniable truth is mixed
with it in the teaching; of course, things obviously true are skilfidly
warped so as to appear to support the £Usehood ; but the dogmatic assump-
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136 The Radical.
tions upon which this hypothesis called ^' salvation " is reared, are thor-
oughly and absolutely false.
1. God is not the odious mixture of good and evil that this scheme repre-
sents Him. He is the genuine Father and Mother of each individual of
the human race, caring for each with all the wisdom and all the tenderness
belonging to those relations, and extending that wise supervision and tender
help through the whole existence of each. Consequently —
2. Man is not " lost" He is as much within God's power, and imder
His protecting Fatherly care, as on the first day of his creation. He has
never been beyond that power or severed from that care. He is just where
God expected and intended him to be, in the first stage of an immense and
beneficent system of education. In other words — God, the all-wise and
all-powerful, has noi been overpowered or outwitted by any hostile being in
the execution of the beneficent purposes which we must suppose Him orig-
inally to have had in the creation of man. Consequently —
3. There is no need, there was never any need, of a " Plan of Salvation "
for man and of course, there never was any such supplementary " Plan "
in God's economy. The original purpose of the Infinite Father still holds*
It n^er " repented Him that He had made man." The Allwise saw from the
beginning all the experimental trials among good and evil, that His child-
ren would make in the course of their education ; and their temporary
choice of evil is so far from surprising or disconcerting Him, with whom a
thousand years are as one day, that He has made the results of such choice
eminently useful in their education. Since then, nothing has occurred to
disturb God's original purpose of progressive providential education for
men, it further follows that —
4. God has never established any such horrible thing as that which the
Church calls *^ Hell ; " unspeakably horrible, whether it be imagined z,pi(ut
of never-ending bodily torment, as the Church generally teaches — or a
state of never-ending spiritual suffering, as Henry Ward Beecher teaches.
Not only would it be a libel on the Father to suppose never-ending evil or
never-ending suffering a ^art of His purpose, but there is no reason what-
ever to suppose the necessity or the existence of any such thing, whether
place <^r state. The idea originated in times of comparative ignorance ; it
has been continued and perpetuated, partly by men who were base enough
to make their living out of the fears inspired in the community by the sup-
position of its truth, and partly by the well meaning dupes of such men ;
and it is now used by the clergy to drive into their net those who cannot
be otherwise drawn into it
These things being so, we are assured that, there being no such thing in
existence as that which the Church calls '' Hell," there is no such thing
needful to man as that which the Church calls " salvation." Of course I
use the term in the Church's meaning, which is the meaning accepted
among the Church's pupils, otherwise called the Christian world ; for aU
the Catholics, all the Greek Church, and im immense majority of the Pro^
testants, accept and believe this hypothesis about sa,lva4on.
Now, the intelligent Christian does not believe in the Minotaurish being,
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Do Men need Salvation? 137
half Father and half tyrant, that the Church puts in the place of the true
God. He believes in the Perfect Being who is the true Father and Friend
to every man, as much after the death of his body as before it He believes
that God's original plan continues, and will continue, to work with pros-
perous beneficence, never having so failed or come short as to make kn
amendment, a plan of salvation, necessary. Why then should he use that
damaged phraseology ? Why, wishing to teach the truth, does he continue
to use the word that is founded on a group of falsehoods, and that conveys
to ninety-nine in every hundred of those who hear it the false idea preached
everywhere by the Church ? Should not all of us who worship a God of
love do better to dispense with the word " salvation," and use some expres-
sion which shall convey our meaning without at the same time conveying a
meaning different from ours ?
We, children of the Heavenly Father — in virtue of our humanity, un-
doubtedly His children — and His children no less, even if we are prodigal
sons — we do not need salvation. We have no more need of a contrivance
to escape from hell than from purgatory. The idea of the necessity of
attempting such an escape, and the methods of accomplishing it, would only
divert us from the real work which God has set before us in this world,
the progressive improvement of ourselves and our fellow-men. This is
evidently God*s plan, the education of His children in wisdom and goodness ;
and our business in this world is to be workers together with Him.
We are now in God's primary school Oiur duty in it is to do its work
feithfully, day by day ; not to spend our time in speculating as to what our
positions will be in the grammar school, and the high school, and the col-
lege, and in such other departments of instruction and discipline as are yet
to come. A very moderate allowance of faith would teach us that he, the
Superintending Father, will provide for that ; and a moderate exercise of
reason ought to teach us that faithful attention to the duties of this depart-
ment is the very preparation needed, and the best preparation possible, for
entrance upon the next Let us love God, trust him, and work with him in
the effort to improve ourselves and others. This is the whole duty of man.
But it will be asked me — Do you leave out of consideration the ugly feet
of sin ? the fact that many of us often, and all of us sometimes, are accus-
tomed to work not with God, but against him ?
I answer, I do not forget or disregard this fact Every teacher of a pri-
mary scihool knows that no scholar is perfect, that some are wilfully disobe-
dient, and that some persist in wilful disobedience. Of course this state of
things is to be provided for.
Our teachers, too, are imperfect as well as their children. Some try one
method, some another, for overcoming the evils of disobedience. Some
have more success, others less. None of them are wicked enough to burn
the unruly scholar alive, as the Church makes its God do with his refrac-
tory pupils ; but being limited in power, and wisdom, and time, they are
sometimes obliged to yield to the difficulties of the situation, and to turn
the bad boy out of school. What I claim for the true God, the loving
Father, is, that being «i»limited in power, and wisdom, and time, the difl5-
3
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138 The Radical.
culties of the situation are never too great for Him. He will accompKsh Hi»
benevolent purposes in regard to the ultimate holiness and happiness of
men without a single fidlure. Sooner or later, He will succeed in persuad*
ing every sinner voluntarily to turn from sin and to choose righteousness.
Is not this plan better than the one which, (though called a "plan of
salvation '') provides for a hell of blasphemers to be eternally roasting, or a
hell of sufferers eternally agonized by unavailing remorse ? I say that our
God is higher, nobler, more worthy of veneration, affection and obedience
than the Church's God. He will not laugh at the sinner's calamity, and
mock when his fear cometh. He will encourage and accept repentance
and the attempt at amendment in the next world, and the next, and the
next, no less than in the present one. He is to be loved and honored be-
cause he is obviously worthy of love and honor.
This is the way in which God deals with sin. But how are we to deal
with it in ourselves ? Each of us is conscious of yielding to temptation, of
doing wrong actions, of indulging evil affections, of choosing for the time,
something opposite to God and goodness. Now, even if there be no hell
existing, and no salvation from it needed, do we not need a mediator to
reconcile us to God, and an atonement to wash away our sin ?
I answer, we do not need either. Though we may have been alienated
from God, God is never alienated from us. He is alwa)rs ready and glad
to welcome the repentant sinner. Whoever is sincerely trying to cease to
do evil and learn to do well has God already on his side. What men need
is to be assured of this £cict, and thus to be encouraged never to give up
striving for self-improvement Error and sin are to be expected of human
frailty. When a man does wrong again, after repenting and reforming,
" no strange thing has happened to him." He has repeated the experience
of all men, even the best, that have gone before him. It is the invariable
lot of humanity. I say this not by way of excuse, least of all as suggesting
indifference or easy assent to the repetition of sin, but as recognizing a fact
in human life and human character. This verse states the £%ct and gives
the remedy :
"The wisest have been fools,
The surest stumbled sore ;
Strive thou to stand ; or, £&ll^n, ariu I
I ask thee not for more."
What we need is to recognize the fact that every sin is an act of folly as
well as of wickedness, to turn from it with hearty repentance, to make such
amendment to any wronged fellow-man as the case admits of^ and to watch,
and pray, and strive against a repetition of the sin. If you fail again, be not
discouraged, but still try. Try, and keep trying, and never cease trying, to
avoid the things you know to be wrong, and to do the things you know to
be right This is the whole duty of man. The religious teacher can teach
this just as easily, and can make it just as clear to his pupil, as what he now
teaches about putting trust in a mediator. The pupil can make the effort of
offering his sincere penitence to the Father, the Being against whom he has
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sinned, and to whom he wishes to return, as easily as to a mediator. This
is the right course, and it has the further advantage of being a direct, in-
stead of a circuitous course.
As to the pretended need of a mediator, b there any one nearer to a £ctther
than his child ? Did the Prodigal Son need a mediator ? Jesus teaches us
in that beautiful parable how to go to God, namely, in person, and not by
deputy. The Prodigal Son would have committed a new error if he had
applied to the obedient elder brother, or to anybody else in the universe, to
intercede for him. His application directly to the £ither is the best proof of
the sincerity of his love and the heartiness of his obedience. 'And the
Father so receives it He asks no atonement, no sacrifice, no process of
purification following the return and confession. The act of returning in
penitence was the purification. And the Father, who had been ready every
day and hour since his son's departure to welcome his return in this same
manner, says immediately, *' Bring forth the best robe and put it on him."
He is again and at once a son^ with all the rights and privileges of that re*
lation, according to the instruction that Jesus himself gives us.
I conclude then,, judging from the highest estimate that we can form of
the character and purposes of God, and from a reasonable view of the
nature and the destiny of men, that we do not need the thing which the
Church calls " salvation ; " and that we can spend our time much better
than in thinking of it or striving for it God has made men for progressive
improvement in wisdom and goodness. By striving for these ends we shall
be working together with Him.
THE LORD'S SUPPER.
FOURTH PAPER.— rrs ABANXX>NMENT.
WE have sketched in the preceding papers the sad history of the
Lord's Supper ; its touchingly beautiful origin, in an upper room,
where at the Passover Supper, sat Jesus and the twelve ; its sim-
ple and childlike, its social and happy observance in the churches of the
Apostles : its separation into two antagonistic branches, the Agape and the
Eucharist We have seen the Agape lose its religious character in its con-
viviality, crowded out of the Church, as it was, by the imposing and myste-
rious Eucharist We have seen the Eucharist lose its commemorative, and
all its social character, in the stately sacrifice of the Mass. We have seen
the attempt of Protestantism to restore the primitive Communion pibve un-
successful on account of a theology entirely unlike that of the Apostles ;
and, finally, we have seen sects that have renounced the sacrificial theology,
and are struggling into a free and rational faith, retaining a form out of
which so far as they are concerned, the life has departed — refusing to bury
their dead.
But why, it may be asked, may we not, now that we know what it is, re-
establish the primitive observance ; and, like the Apostles in Jerusalem, or
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140 The Radical.
the disciples in Troas and Corinth, have a real supper, a social, religious
meal, in memory of Jesus, and of his last interview with the disciples?
There is nothing to hinder any number of persons who choose to do so
meeting thus ; but let them regard the act as individual, and temporary ; let
them not imagine they arc restoring the primitive " Breaking of bread."
The basis of all observance is belief: and is it not certain that we cannot
believe quite as the Apostles did ? If they did not think and feel humanly,
but by miraculous inspiration, then, of course, we cannot expect to share
their experience, and if they did think and feel humanly, it is impossible
for us to see things in their light, without being set back some 1800 years,
and subjected to their surroundings. We might as well hope to realize
again the life and opinions of a child, as to enter truly into any ancient the-
ology or religion. It always costs a pang to break* the ties that bind us to
the outiived and outgrown past ; but all the experience of life tells us, that
we must hold ourselves ready to do so, and enter, as best we may, the life
of the present The world is full of births and separations, and only by
means of them does humanity continue and advance. It is allowable to drop
a tear over the departed ; but to hold on to that which b no longer ours —
*'l8 a coarse
Of impious stubbornness ; 't is unmanly grief;
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven."
In the history of the world how often men are called upon to forsake their
idols, and cleave only to the living God, and how often do we hear the in-
consolable lament of the poor Jew of Mt Ephraim, whose religious estab-
lishment had been robbed by the Danites. '* Ye have taken away my gods
and the priest, what have I more." It is natural to be disturbed through fear
of losing something sacred. Alas, that we Christians should need to be
told by pious Mohammedans, that the only place truly sacred, is in the de-
vout heart
"I hotiy strove to reach the race-coarse goal,
"When seeking God beyond myself to find.
But now I see, since Me was in my soul.
The first impatient step left Him behind."
At its very best the Communion can be only a means of grace that may be
disused without serious loss. I appeal to you who have most keenly enjoyed
the suggestions and associations of the Lord's Supper, whether it is there
only or chiefly that 3rou experience the kindling and sanctifying influences.
Are you not often more deeply touched by music, or by the sight of the grand
and beautiful ? Is home without its means of grace to you ? Is active be-
nevolence and your daily human enterprises altogether pro^e ? If our
natural life has not to us its religious side, in vain shall we seek God and
good at a ritual service, and if we but use the near and common means of
grace, we shall have littie occasion for the extraordinary, and the artificiaL
It is apt to be thought that if the Commimion has become nearly or quite
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The Lord's Supper. 141
insignificant^ it is at all events innocent, and, therefore, to be let alone, for
those to enjoy who find, or imagine they find it to be usefiil. Against such in-
differentism I feel bound to protest Institutions are generally useful in their
time ; out of their time they are always noxious. I say it not without regard
to the feelings of others. The Lord's Supper has become among liberal
Christians a stumbling-block and a growing evil. All attempts to free it
firom the sacrificial and funereal character which Evangelical Protestants
have given it have proved unavailing. In the more radical societies where
great pains have been taken to give it naturalness, and bring it within the
range of popular thought, the people persist in regarding it as a rite in which
only the few, the pious, should participate, and one which is to be approached
only by those who put their shoes fi'om off" their feet Something very mys-
terious and solemn invests the occasion, and its character cannot be changed
without so remodelling it as to make it a new institution. There seems to
be an impassible gulf between the Lord's Supper as we know it, and one
conducted in such a cheerfid, social way that it would be as real as a dinner
in honor of a hero or a poet As it is, it presents an unnatural and forbid-
ding aspect, and is out of all relation to modem life. Such a use of symbob
is elsewhere utterly unknown to us. It would, I think, be Car enough fi-om
Oriental ways ; it is certainly foreign to our occidental ideas and habits. If
we go through the form because it is commanded, it lacks all grace and
worUi ; and if we do it as an artificial stimulus to our feelings, it is in the
long run prejudicial, making them morbid in proportion to its efiBciency.
The most serious objection to the ordinance is that it institutes a fictitious
separation of the righteous and the wicked. If it were in our power to make
a just division between the good and the bad, and to set the one on the right
hand, and the other on the left, it would be wicked and inhuman to do so.
Both parties would be made to suffer, the bad made worse, through envy
and despair, and the good demoralized, through pride and conceit What
then shall we say of a division so evidently, so confessedly fictitious. Do
not many of the very best men and women shrink from the Communion
table, while some of the most hypocritical and mean spirited, are punctilious
in their attendance ? I do not speak df exceptional cases. I do not speak
hastily, or at random, but of what I have painfully and continually observed,
and I confidently assert that the Communion institutes a fictitious separa-
don of the pious and pro£uie. The evident tendency of this, is to bring reli-
gion into contempt. It is bad enough to shut the sacredest service into a
secret comer, when the universe is God's only visible temple, but when the
select coterie is as sure to embrace the worst as the best man, the whole
thing becomes excessively frivolous and repugnant Into the Holy of Ho-
lies, as the Communion service has come to be regarded, those of a tender
conscience will go with reluctance, while the Pharisee steps confidently in.
The rite, therefore, both encourages Phariseeism, and discourages the
** Blessed who are poor in spirit" Independent thinkers will naturally hes-
tate, or decline to participate in a ceremony so mysterious, and so likely to
be 8l^>erstitious ; while the unthinking; who follow leadership with as little
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142 The Radical.
reason as a flock of sheep, wiU be counted among the elect : and so again
the Church award a premium to the least deserving.
Do not say that the doors are opened wide, and in our more liberal
churches, the sinners as well as the saints are invited You know very well
who can come and who must stay away. Do not say it is not the Commun-
ion's £ctult, but that of the persons who refuse to participate In it Is then
man made for the service. The only claim that this, or any other form can
have upon rational men, is that it meets their wants. It is not enough that
a salvation is free, it is a failure if it does not draw men to itselfl If the
practical effect of the Lord's Supper is to separate men, and even create
false distinctions, instead of binding the wh<^e race into a brotherhood, it is
sufficiently condemned, no matter how fine may be its theory.
Secular secret societies are always looked upon with suspicion. Some-
times they may render their members more humane, by pointing out partic-
ular persons to whom to show kindness. Yet unquestionably a secret soci-
ety makes artificial, and purely arbitrary distinctions, and it is a question
whether it is or not true, that as much more as the members of a fraternity
love one another, so much the less they care for those outside of their circle.
How manifestly nothing of this kind can be tolerated in religion. One of
the most fundainental of religious ideas, is that of the unity and brotherhood
of the race. To encourage separations and distinctions, and special regard
for special classes, is not only alien, but antagonistic, to Christiamty. I
cannot give expression to the strength and vehemence of my feeling
against the anti-Christian custom. It is enough to hear the members of
petty ¥rorldly organizations calling this man '* Brother " and that one " Mr.,''
but when the same spirit makes the highest and holiest ''profession " in
order to pronounce with its ''little brief authority" from a self-erected
judgment seat, its " Come ye blessed " and " Depart ye cursed " it becomes
a rank offence smelling to heaven. It is well known that the Communion
is the head and front of this offending. Everywhere it is this service that
distinguishes the " professor of religion '' from the worldling, and never till
this service is abolished, will it be possible for Christians to look upon
mankind as a brotherhood. Dakiel Bowem.
THE LOST THOUGHT.
Two little clouds were sailing
Over a Summer's sea,
Two little birds were telling
Their loves in a leafy tree: —
I looked, — the clouds had vanished.
The birds far off had flown ;
My rising thought was banished.
And I was left alone.
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PERSONAL EXPERIENCE.— HOW I TURNED "PARKER-
ITE."
L
WHERE I STARTED.
IN boy-hood I was a Webster Whig, and a Huntington Unitarian.
Among my'earliest memories are the Church and the Sunday School.
When I was about ten years old, my litUe cousm who was spendii^
Sunday with me asked me to lend him my Robinson Crusoe. I indignantly
refused his request, and told him that he was a very naughty boy to want to
read such books on the Sabbath. We had quite a quarrel over the book,
and it was with great difficulty that my mother persuaded me that quarrel-
ling on Sunday was worse than even reading Robinson Crusoe. My own
Sunday reading consisted mainly of the Old Testament, and Josephus. I not
Only believed every word in the Bible, but attached a mystical and magical
efficacy to even the long lists of proper names in Chronicles. A sermon of
Dr. Wayland's, on the New Jerusalem, fell into my hands when I was about
sixteen. I became greatiy alarmed for the safety of my soul, and though I
gained some comfort from occasionally attending Methodist prayer-meet-
ings, began to fear that I had committed the unpardonable sin. In my ter-
ror I fested, made long prayers, and read the Bible continually. In short,
I passed through the whole experience, commonly called by the Orthodox,
conversion. At last I applied for admission to the Church. I told the min-
ister, still a pillar of the £uth which Channing, and Buckminster, and Noah
Worcester delivered unto him, that, above all other things I desired admis-
sion into his Church. Being duly admitted, I believed myself numbered
among the elect. About this time, I occasionally heard of Theodore Parker's
foolish and blasphemous heresies. One Sunday morning I met a friend of
mine, a lady, who invited me to go with her to hear this " Orson of par-
sons." " No," responded my indignant orthodoxy, " I am going to
Church?'
At this time my religious faith centred in Jesus Christ, and was in effect
the exclusive worship of that holy Person. The idea of God, our Father,
seemed to me one of secondary importance and value. I had a great deal
of mental deference for him who was the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ,
but I had very litUe faith in Our Father. I was a firm believer in Endless
Misery, in Special Providences, in the In^ibility of Scripture, in the
Mediatorial office of Christ, in his Supernatural Authority and Superhuman
Character, and in the Mystical Efficacy of his death to secure our salvation.
With these views, then, I began to prepare for the ministry, nearly ten years
ago. My success in the study of Theology will be narrated in the next
chapter.
II.
WHAT I STUDIED.
I began my studies for the ministry with the one subject which was of all
engrossing interest to me, the nature and character of Jesus. I devoted all
my best time and thought for over a year to this subject I read the Gos-
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144 The Radical.
pels often, and also the best lives of Jesus I could procure. Mr. Hunting-
ton recommended those by Fumess and Neander. I studied these carefully
and arrived, at length, to a very unexpected, and at first, unwelcome result
For I seemed to find that the New Testament taught the perfect and sim-
ple humanity of Jesus. I was forced to admit this, but I still clung all the
closer to my foith in his miracles, his infallibility, his sinlessness, his media-
torship, and his real and actual presence with every believing soul. I con-
ceived that faith in him was necessary for salvation. The next point I took
up was that of Endless Misery, my belief in which doctrine had made me,
first anxious for myself, and then scornful towards those whom I thought
God had rejected. A fragment of a Universalist newspaper turned my
attention to the well-known passages in Paul's epistles. I studied these,
and a weight was lifted from my soul. I never had felt so happy in Church
before, because I could rejoice in the belief that all my fellow-worshippers
would sooner or later be saved. My attention was next turned to the con-
tradictions and improbable statements in the Old Testament. I gave up, as
the majority of Unitarians had already done, the notion of the infallibility of
this part of the Bible, but I held, perhaps all the faster, to that of the Gos-
pels and Epistles. I now began to fear that my speculations had gone so
^ as to unfit me for entrance into the Unitarian ministry. Therefore I
was much relieved by discovering at one of the A. U. A. meetings, and
through the Christian Examiner, that it was possible to be a Unitarian min-
ister and yet a Humanitarian, a Universalist, and a sceptic about some of
the Old Testament miracles, and it was the fashion then, before Mr. Parker
chased all smiles from Unitarian lips, to smile in a superigir way at Balaam's
ass and Jonah's whale. Accordingly I entered the Divinity School, and de-
voted the first two years of my life in Cambridge to the study of the New
Testament. I studied the original Greek in the best edition, and with the
best commentaries money could buy. I composed elaborate dissertations
on the Hebraisms in the New Testament, on the Codex Sinaiticus and simi-
lar subjects. Gradually I saw that the difference of the various manuscripts
was so great that it was often impossible to decide upon the original text
I found one error after another in our translation, and came upon irrecon-
cilable contradictions in both Epistles and Gospels. Passage after passage
presented itself which in its strict meaning I could not accept I fought as
long as I could for the infallibility of the Gospels, but the facts, were too
strong for me. In particular the two narratives of the Miraculous Concep-
tion seemed to me not only irreconcilable with each other, but contrary to all
the rest of the New Testament Even the genealogies seemed to prove that
Jesus was the son of Joseph. How else could he be son of David ? I
began also to doubt the reality of the Corporeal Ascension, and it shocked
me that the loving Jesus was represented as saying, " he that believeth not
shall be damned/' and " Fear him who is able to destroy both soul and
body in hell."
I believed that all that Jesus said was true, but I felt sure he could not
have uttered these cruel words. To give isolated examples of what appeared
to me erroneous doctrine, I found I did not accept Paul's ideas concern-
ing marriage, in I Corinthians, vii ; nor the statement, in I Timothy, vi,
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Personal Experience* 145
that " The love of money is the root of all evil" I knew that the love of
money was not the root of idleness, drunkenness, profligacy or revenge ;
for it sometimes restrains these vices and encourages industry, temperance,
and prudence. I made the discovery that many scholars of every sect be-
lieved that Paul did not write the epistles to Titus, and Timothy,,aad the
Hebrews, nor John the Revelation, nor Luke, Acts. I also found that the
best teachings of Jesus, the two great commandments, were quotations from
Leviticus and Deuteronomy, and that the golden rule had been previously
given by Jewish rabbis and Greek philosophers, yet still 1 imagined that a
personal faith in the presence of Jesus with us was essential to Christianity.
My first sermons in the school took the ground that Christianity was Love
to God, Love to Man, and Faith in Christ. It was the latter article in
my creed which kept me confirmed in the belief that Theodore Parker was
no Christian.
IIL
WHERE I DRIFTED TO.
My Studies at college and in the Divinity School had carried me out of
the belief in the infallibility of Scripture with which I began. Even in the
words attributed to Jesus, I found errors. •Still I held fast to my faith in
him, not so much in his holiness and spiritual wisdom, as in the single idea
of his omnipresence in the hearts of all believers : it seemed essential to
the maintenance of religious truth in the civilized world.
One eventful day, more than four years ago, I heard a keen, strong ser-
mon from Rev. O. B. Frothingham, against this very doctrine, and the
whole idea of* a technical faith in Christ. Now that I was obliged to look
at this doctrine more closely than ever before, a very severe mental strug-
gle, darkened by my fears for the future, and my great unwillingness to dif-
fer from my old friends and models in the ministry, ensued. I came out of
that struggle without my old faith in Christ, but happy and strong in new
£uth in God. I found that my excessive admiration of Jesus had stood in
the way of my faith in his Father and mine. I had put Jesus between me
and my Father, and thus I had never seen how near God was to me, inspiring
the very ideas of truth and righteousness which I had referred to the per-
sonality of Christ Now I knew God's love as I had never known it before.
Still the questions were not clearly answered, should I pray ? should I
preach ? should I administer the communion ? should I name the name
of Jesus in sermon and prayer, or should I follow literally the model
of his Lord's prayer, and his Sermon on the Mount ? On all these
points I felt completely uncertain. My old cable had parted and I was
adrift My anxiety brought a long illness upon me. Now I read Parker,
Buckle, Hennell, &c., and found my faith strengthened, and my future
duties became clear. Perhaps I owe my escape from Atheism to these
books. Certainly I owe it to them that I did not withdraw from the
ministry. I felt that where Parker had*stood, there was a place for me. I
do not agree with Parker in everything. I call no man master. But now,
whatever else I believe, I hold with Parker, to the nearness of God to every
soul ; to the influence of His Spirit over every heart ; to the perfect order
of His Providence ; to our universal salvation through universal growth in
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146 The Radical.
goodness, to a revelation of God through all his works, but most of all
through our own souls, and to a human Jesus, whose life we can reproduce
in our own. I am willing to accept the name of " Parkerite '* from those to
whom it means this. I do not seek it, but will not shun it I can only
hope to live up to my views as nobly as Parker did to his. All my views,
all my hopes, and all my life, centre in these two words — Our Father.
Fred May Holland.
ENGLAND AT THE GRAVE OF PALMERSTON.
'* General Conway asked me if this earthquake (the French Revolution) was not
a theme to moralize on. I told him that it made me feel more disposed to immor-
alize."— ^<vfl^< WalpoU.
Yesterday, at one o'clock, the body of Henry John Temple Viscount
Palmerston, sometime Prime Minister of England, and Knight of the Garter,
was buried in Westminster Abbey. He lies between Pitt and Fox, whose
great parliamentary contests he witnessed ; with Canning — ^his master — at
his feet ; with Grattan on one hand, and the statue of Chatham rising above
him. It is a fitting spot for his rest ; it is the Valhalla of the true worship-
pers of England. He had lived for England ; in her had lived, moved, and
had his being. When England wore shoe-buckles and powder, he had
worn them ; when England wore pig-tails, he wore them ; when England
shed those old leaves, he shed them. With England he tolerated Eldon
and Casdereagh and defended the cruel Sidmouth ; with her demanded the
detention of .''the enemy to mankind" on the rock of St. Helena, vowed
that no one of his i^ame should rule in Europe, and twelve years zSter the
exile's death with her was the first to welcome, and even assist, to the
throne of France the usurper whose only title thereto was written in the
blood of innocent men and women on the second of December. A Tory
when England was Tory ; a Whig when England was Whig ; a liberal pro-
posing Reform when she was m that mood, a conservative paralysing re-
form when she was in that Never in any instance during those eighty-one
years of life did he lead public opinion ; never in any did he refuse to follo^
it With him, as the London Times said with a fidelity to truth which the
journals aroxmd it have not imitated, '' Opinion not seldom made evil good
and good evil." His long administration of public affiurs was, the Times
n^vely adds, unbiassed "by any prejudices of his own." There was a sim-
ilar truth in the motto which Palmerston assumed, and which was blazoned
all over the pall and hearse which bore him to the grave '- " Flecti non
frangi,^'* Bend, O shade, — or shadow, shall I say ?— of England 1 you cer-
tainly did ; pliancy, ductility, made you for fifty years the figure-head of
England, where many a man with less ^/m/ about him was broken.
He lived for England ; verily, he hath his reward, — Cambridge House in
this life, and a princely cortege around a grave in the old Abbey, with the
sure hope of a resurrection in marble above it
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England at the Grave of Palmerston. 147
Slowly emerging from the enclosure of his magnificent residence came
the great hearse, with a forest of tall dark plumes on the top of it, and with
it a long line of distinguished equipages. The Lord Mayor's gaily painted
coach, just as it glittered before the first and latest Whittington, drawn by
festooned horses ; the coaches of the Mayors of Dverpool, of Edinburgh,
and other cities, each vieing with the others, in the amount of tinsel it could
display, and the gaudy liveries which could be spread upon its driver and
footmen ; the Queen's only a little more decent coach, and the Prince's —
each with four horses and outriders all in scarlet ; the long line of Dukes,
Peers, Lords, and others following ; then thirty or forty corporations ; then
soldiers on foot ; then the tail of people diminishing to the ragged boys, —
all these saw I with these eyes crawling through London streets, like some
huge primeval monster with glittering scales, half-frozen by the uncongenial
climate of the Nineteenth Century, and going to bury itself in the old West-
minster rock with the fossil forms to which it belongs. He passed Marlbo-
rough House, where she who will some day be Queen stood, in deep
mourning, at the window, to see the fading rays of this Setting Sun ; he
passed close to the monument of Nelson ; by the spot where Queen Elea-
nor's rest left its mark in daring Cross.
When his hearse passed by Whitehall, I thought of Cromwell's head
which once looked down, from its pale throne, on the mob, for weeks, and
reflected how different was the fate of him who " bends " and of him who
bends not Tyburn trees, and heads stuck on poles, and two hundred
years of execration for the one; Premierships, Viscounts' crowns, and
tombs among the great for the other.
Within Westminster Abbey were gathered over one half of the nobility
of England. The Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cambridge enter with
the Dean of Westminster. Then the chanters meet the coffin with its rich
crimson pall at the door, and the organ breaks forth with its voice which
sends its sweet notes, like the rains of God, alike on the just and on the
unjust Then through the chanting voices of boys alternating tenderly with
the deeper tones of the adult singers, with the slow tread of the procession
up the aisle, beating time, come forth old burthens of prophets and com-
posers long dead — " I am the Resurrection and the Life '^ ; " I know that
my Redeemer liveth" ; " We brought nothing into this world" The coffin
rests at last, and a cushion with the coronet is placed upon it Then the
Ninetieth Psalm to Purcell's music is sung ; then Lord Thynne reads from
Paul about the trumpet that is to sound and the angels who are to meet the
sleepers whom it will awaken, and who are to be caught up into the air.
At that moment, though the procession had come through the sunshine,
a tremendous black cloud floated over the sky, and sank even near to the
towers of the Abbey. The gloom was so deep that only those who stood
very near could see the white surplices of the clergy or of the choristers.
The rain came down, — as if even the English sky felt akin to one who was
in every fibre so English. The wind swept about the old walls, and amid
the gloom and darkness of the organ, as the singers sang Handel's grand
Anthem, ^ His body was buried in peace, but his name will live forever-
more."
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148 The Radical.
In that cloud the body is lowered. When the words " dust to dust " are
uttered, not dust but gold rings foil on the coffin ! When the grave is cov-
ered over, the sun comes out again, lighting up the swords of heroes, the
trumpets of angels and of Fames. When Nelson was buried a similar
cloud overshadowed the vast crowd who did homage to him, arousing an
almost superstitious feeling among them. Now it only scattered the vast
swarm of people who pressed about the railings without
For meanwhile a few feet from the royalty, the aristocrats with their
badges, the officials with their purple and gold, was a seething roaring sea
of those who make the shame — as the others inside, the glory— of England.
Thousands on thousands of beggars, thieves, prostitutes, drunkards, have
gathered to gaze on the "gay coaches, on the nobility, on the Prince.
" These be they gods, O Israel I " Might not one conceive, however, a
Premier, or First Man, who with sixty years of unlimited power and wealth
would manage to have fewer rags, even if less gold, around his grave, and
more of the blessings of the needy, if fewer jewels, to fell on his coffin.
The man who received these honors was a man notoriously self-indulgent
He was not only a worldly man ; he was fer from being a virtuous man.
Of this the Times says ; —
" We however, who breathe a religion, the Founder of which was set at
nought for His social habit, because he came eating and drinking, may learn
not to think less of a statesman because of his geniality, his ready jest, and
his open house."
Such then, O rising generation, such is the Standard of character which
England erects for you as that of success. " Blessed are they who serve
England right or wrong," saith her beatitude, " for theirs shall be every
earthly honor," — though the poor groan, and the hands of despots through-
out the world — ^be they French usurpers or Southern Legrees — be strength-
ened. And though they be war instead of peace-makers, they shall inherit
the earth. Rejoice when all English-men speak well of you. Nay, if you
do but bend, and swerve, and rise and bow as England wills, you may eat,
drink and be merry, and when you die, the Times shall find in your self-
indulgence yoiu: special resemblance to the Saviour of Mankind ! c.
LETTER FROM JAMES FREEMAN CLARKK
To 7*HE Editor op the Radical.
Dear Sir : — In your October number, when introducing Mr. Henry
James's letter, (which somewhat criticises the utterances of your journal)
you say that you are pleased to receive such criticism. Allow me, then, to
make a few remarks on Mr. Johnson's " Discourse," in the same number.
I have always wished to see a periodical devoted to discussions of important
subjects, which would welcome statements and arguments, if able and can-
did, on both sides of such questions. I once proposed such a pubUcation,
to be called the " Arena," but we failed in establishing it
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Letter from James Freeman Clarke. 149
First, of personal matters. Mr. Johnson refers to my Convention Ser-
mon. He speaks of its ^ gentle management " and ^* mild manipulation."
Allow me to say, that no manipulation, mild or rude, was intended by me.
I know nothing about management Without consulting any one, I gave
my own idea of the work the Unitarian Conference had to do. This seemed
the natural subject for an opening sermon. If I manipulated any body, I
am not aware of it.
Mr. Johnson is also displeased because I spoke of its being the duty of
Unitarians to carry ^e Gospel to heretics and outsiders. He thinks it
" most xmbecoming " that I should pretend that Unitarians have any mes-
sage for such persons. But Mr. Johnson is wrong in supposing that I
meant to try to teach an3rthing to himself and his friends. I did not refer
to them, but to others, doubters and seekers, outside the Christian body,
who have not outgrown Christianity, but have never had it. Perhaps it will
be conceded, even by these advanced thinkers whom Mr. Johnson repre-
sents, that Christianity may be good for such persons, if only as a stepping
stone.
Mr. Johnson thinks I am blind to the facts of the times. I have spent a
large part of my active life outside of Massachusetts, and my statements
were not founded on theory but observation and experience. 1 am sorry to
offend the advanced guard of thought here in New England, but am obliged
to say that liberal Christians have a mission and a word for outsiders.
Mr. Johnson states the great religious question to be between the author-
ity of infsdlible teachers, including Christ, on the one hand ; and the author-
ity of the private reason on the other. He think that if Christ be recognized
as authoritative Lord and Master, private reason is dethroned.
Now, instead of this question being the great question of the age, it
seems to me to be mostly a question of words — a distinction falsely so called.
For if it can be shown that the advocate of infdlible authority, and he of
private reason, do accept the same rule of judgment, and must do so, then
this whole question is evidently verbal, not rational — and the sooner we
cease arguing about it, the better for the interests of knowledge.
Now the most Orthodox Roman Catholic, who believes, Jirs/, that Christ
was infallible ; Secondly, that those who wrote down his words were infelli-
ble ; and Thirdly^ that his Church is the infallible Interpreter of these
words ; is obliged nevertheless, to make his own reason the supreme judge
at last of what that Infidlible Interpretation of the Infallible Record of the
Infallible Revelation means. He merely asserts their Infallibility as
Sources, and in themselves. But to him nothing is infallible but his own
knowledge. The reason of the Roman Catholic is just as supreme a judge
to decide finally and without appeal between truth and falsehood as that of
the most advanced radical.
And, on the other hand, the most pronounced radical may and does ad-
mit that Christ is a Source of Truth. If he is a man of reverence, as well
as a radical, he will probably expect to learn something which he did not
know before fi-om the words of all wise and good men. Christ being by
admission, an eminently wise and good man, the radical is bound to place
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150 The RadicaK
his mind in a receptive attitude while in his presence. He must hold the
critical judgment still, while the apprehending power is acting— for such is
the law of the human mind. The greatest radical that ever lived, the great-
est radical now living, cannot, at the same moment, be receiving a truth or
doctrine, and disputing it. Every teacher, who has anything to say, speaks
with authority — only the Scribes, who have merely words and no insight,
speak without authority.
The Rotnan Catholic and Protestant therefore, do not differ, and cannot
as to the power which is to decide what truth is — they only differ in regard
to the channels through which truth comes. The Protestant says the Bible
is the channel through which Christian truth comes to us ; the Roman
Catholic says, the Bible and the Church, The Orthodox Protestant differs
from the Unitarian Radical, not at all in regard to the criterion of truth,
but only as to its Sources. Orthodoxy regards Christ and the Bible as
Sources of truth, in a higher sense, apparently than they are regarded by
the radical. But even here the distinction is only of more and less, and not
a distinction of principle. For the radical certainly considers Christ and
ikit Bible as a source of truth— only he does not go to them so much as to
others. He goes to science ; he goes to the Vedas, (when he can find
them) ; he goes to Emerson and Thoreau ; he goes to Theodore Parker,
Herbert Spencer, and Miss Cobbe.
Therefore, the question between outward authority and inward freedom,
which Mr. Johnson says is the great religious question of the age, resolves
itself at last into a mere question of more or less. Every one must rely, to
some extent, on outward authority ; but some rely on it more, and some
less. The radical reads in a receptive and deferential way, the writings of
Emerson and Parker. When these writers say something which seems
strange, unintelligible or absurd, they do not think it to be so. They rather
think that they do not understand aright, as yet, these sayings of their
masters. They believe in order to understand. When Mr. Emerson says
" the soul knows no persons " he seems to contradict all experience ; but
his devout scholar does not criticise or question this saying. If Paul had
said it, his first thought, perhaps, would be to show its error. When Mr.
Emerson says it, he rather looks to find in what sense it is true, rather than
in what sense it is false ; and thus he discovers what his author means, and
gets sight of a new truth.
Every one who is seeking truth, has some master or masters, toward
whom he takes this attitude of reverence, and believes in order to understand.
He begins with the receptive act, and ends with the critical. Thus the Pla-
tonist reads Plato ; and until he can understand Plato's ignorance, con-
cludes himself ignorant of Plato's understanding. " Credo^ ut intelliganiy^
is his motto. So the Shakspeare-scholar studies Shakspeare ; and, meeting
with a tough passage, does not infer stupidity in his author, but rather stu-
pidity in himself — and so picks his flint and tries again. Is this supersti-
tion ? Is it slavery to the letter of Plato or Shakspeare ? I do not thmk
so. The great masters of thought go before us clothed with this authority ;
and this authority helps us to a greater insight Faith is John the Baptist,
going before Knowledge to prepare its way.
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Letter from James Freeman Clarke. 151
And, on the other hand, every one who believes at all must have more or
less of Inward Freedom. What though I believe every word of the Bible
infallibly true, I open it and read this saying of Jesus, *'If any man come
after me and hate not his £ither and mother, and his own life, he cannot be
my disciple." I cannot accept that literally. I must find out what it means :
and among all possible meanings, I select that which most accords with my
idea of Christian truth. That is, I treat the words of Jesils just as the Pla-
tonist treats the words of Plato, or the Shakspeare scholar the words of
Shakspeare, when these seem to contradict other words of Plato or Shaks-
peare. We judge them by the analogy of faith. Thus, the most implicit
believer in the inspiration of the Bible, must constantly exercise Inward
Freedom in reading it
If Mr. Johnson asserts that we must not. read the words of Jesus or Paul
with a predisposition in their favor, expecting to find in them truth rather
than error — I ask if he will apply the same rule in reading Plato and
Shakspeare, Parker and Emerson ? If not, why not
It is a question of more and less. Mr. Johnson is mistaken in saying, '' if
our souls may be trusted in the search for truth, then we do not need and
cannot have authoritative teachers, creeds, churches, books." The more we
trust our souls, the more we need, and will have, such teachers. If we reject
Jesus, we shall take Auguste Comte or Herbert Spencer. As soon as I
begin to seek for truth I want a teacher. As soon as I begin to travel, I
need a guide. I hire a courier, or I buy Murray's Hand Book, and trust them
to lead me where I want to go. I do not believe Murray infallible, yet I fol-
low his authority, and even trust my life to the truth of what he says.
The question between authority and freedom is a question of more and
less. Men of reverence rely too much on authority — skeptics and critics too
little. Lord Bacon compares these different classes to ants and spiders.
The superstitious man is like the ant, who takes the grain just as he finds
it, and adds it to his heap. He who rejects authority and trusts only to the
soul is like the spider, who spins his web entirely out of his own bowels.
But the wise seeker is neither ant nor spider, but rather a bee^ who goes
abroad to find his food, but works it all up according to the law of his own
nature. Yet even the ant must exercise some faculty of selection, and some
freedom of choice, in finding its grains — even the spider must catch fiies
and eat them before it can make its web. It is not then a question of hos-
tile and mutually exclusive principles. It is a question of more and less.
Most men have too much of the ant in their nature, a few have too much of
the spider. And occasionally you may find a bee, in whom the two princi-
ples are well balanced.
Mr. Johnson rejects with energy the idea of a supernatural Lord and Mas-
ter, and regards the papacy as the logical result of the declaration of Paul,
that the man Jesus is the one mediator between God and man. ^ut con-
sider how we speak of lesser masters. On the statue of Sir Isaac Newton
in Trinity college is the inscription, " Qui genus humanum ingenio supera-'
vit ; " thus ascribing to him superhuman genius, if not supernatural. And
concerning the same great man, Pope writes,
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152 The Radical.
" Nature, and Nature's laws lay hid in night ;
God said * Let Newton be,* and all was Tight"
If such things may be said of Newton, one would suppose it allowable
for us to say of him to whom the human race comes to God as a father, that
he is the medium between God and man.
" No — not the medium — not the mediator — that," perhaps you say, " we
do not admit We admit that Jesus was a mediator, one mediator among
many, but not that he was the only mediator ; since God mediates Himself
through nature, the universal reason, and other inspired men." True.
And who denies it ? Certainly not the apostle Paul, who declared Creation
also to be mediatorial when he said of God, tfcat, " the invisible things of
Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the
things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead." When Paul
said *' there is one mediator between God and man," he did not mean to
contradict what he said of God's not leaving Himself without a witness
among the Gentiles, and of His not being far from any one of us. Among
human mediators, Christ no doubt is the mediator ; since, as a matter of fact,
it is Christ who has introduced among men the conviction that God is their
Father. Christ is the one mediator between God and man. Not of the
Spirituality of God, for that has nowhere been better seen or more abso-
lutely taught than by the great mystics and sages of India. Not of the
Sovereign IVill of God, for that was mediated most fully through Judaism.
Not of the struggle of the Soul, making progress or suffering defeat in pres-
ence of the inflexible laws of the universe — for that has been seen as plainly
by the Buddhists, as by any other teachers. The great Moral Laws have
been mediated in every age and land by Revelations to the conscience and
reason of men, who " not having the law, did by nature the things contained
in the law," and were a law unto themselves. But I ask Mr. Johnson, as a
scholar, well acquainted with the various religions and sacred Scriptures of
the world, whether he finds in any of them, except in Christianity, the revela-
tion of God as a Universal Father, and its corollary of the brotherhood of
man. For twenty years I have been a student of the Ethnic Religions, find-
ing in them many of those great truths which are commonly supposed to be
original in Christianity — but these two doctrines, tlie elements of all pro-
gress, and the spring of modern civilization, I have never been able to find
except in the New Testament ; and of these truths therefore I think we
may say that Christ is the one Mediator between God and man.
It is not necessary to say anything here in regard to those points wherein
I heartily agree with the statements of Mr. Johnson. As a question of more
and less, he argues well the cause of Liberty against Authority, and such
arguments are always in order. No doubt it is important as ever to con-
tend for liberty against authority. But what we need most of all is a clear
distinction to show where and how Authority is in excess. We want a
clear definition of the boundary line between legitimate authority and ille-
gitimate, and this Mr Johnson does not give. No amount of eloquence
will supply the want of such a definition. When it comes we shall all be
glad to see it j. f. c
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THE RADICAL.
JANUARY, 1866.
HYMN FOR THE NEW YEAR.
BY J, C L.
O SouLy begin thy mighty quest,
To-day set forth in search of God ;
The Infinite shall give thee rest,
The Spirit b thy Staff and Rod.
Yet Soul, not far away He dwells
Who is thy Promise and thy Stay:
Within thee, in thy nature's wells
He showeth clear the Truth and Way.
Not outer Bond but inner Light
Shall keep thee quick at Duty's call,
Shall hold thee to Eternal Right,
Shall lead thee to the All in AU.
My Soul, another year comes fleet;
Weak wert thou in the race with Time,
Did not the Spirit wing thy feet
And bear thee on to heights sublime.
O Soul, aquaint thee with Ay needs,
To-day rj<onsecrate thy power,—
And let thy Ritual be the Deeds
To bless thy Brother more and more.
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DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHMSON,
Minister of the Free Church at Lynn, Mass.
III.
THE FALLACIES OF SUPERNATURALISM.
THE topic of the last Discourse was Religious Authority. It
was shown that though we may accept a Bible, a Church, or
a Person as infallible, we do not thereby obtain guarantees for the
truth of our Belief : since it is after all the condition of our spir-
itual faculties, which determines both whether we shall accept and
how we shall interpret such a Guide. The possibility of certitude pri-
marily depends on the validity of that Spiritual Constitution whereof
these faculties are the more or less adequate voice. If this can be
trusted as competent to perceive and recognize truth, if its testimony
concerning its own needs is to be relied on, if it be in such healthful
accord with the Spiritual Universe that its real demands guarantee
the reality of those objects which alone can satisfy them, then indeed
we can both positively know and securely believe. But if this light
of Nature be darkness, then are we without pilot, compass or helm,
and our Knowledge and our Faith are alike a delusion.
Whatsoever then disparages this Spiritual Constitution, whatsoever
suppresses, distorts or perverts its natural testimony, in so far fore-
closes the conditions of Religious Certainty. And the Soul can no more
bear true witness concerning itself than the fiat-head of the Chinook
or the cramped foot of the Chinese girl can give true knowledge of
the Human Form. Nor can an authoritative Bible, Church or
'Christ' help the matter at all. On the contrary they increase that
artificial compression, wherein the whole disability lies. They are
apt to be the very instruments by which it is effectually secured.
It is not meant that the Soul can be essentially disorganized. If it
could be, there were at once the end of all its authority, and all pur
assurance. But demoralized it can be, and that by the suppression,
perversion and distortion of its natural testimony, as above stated.
There are many ways in which this may be done, differing in differ-
ent forms of belief and stages of social progress. The popular Theol-
ogy of Christendom has its way, also, an^ this is what I propose to
deal with in the present Discourse.
It is betrayed in the current definition of the relation between
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 155
Reason and Faith : a definition wherein Faith is perverted and Rea-
son enslaved.
Human Reason in this Theology is taken in the broadest possible
sense, and means the free activity of the human faculties as such. It
includes all that the natural human mind is capable of, whether of the
intuitive or demonstrative sort It includes the light that comes out
of the natural affections and the natural aspirations. It includes com-
mon sense, common conscience or Natural Morality, and such sense
of religious need as is conceded to Natural Religion. It is granted
that by these activities we reach the axioms of Mathematics and a few
moral and religious beliefs. But beyond, it is insisted, there is a re-
gion where this our Spiritual Constitution is utterly blind ; where
Reason, intuitive or demonstrative, and though speaking in the name
of the conscience and the affections, has no place : where truth is no
longer a matter of evidence, but must come, if at all, without evi-
dence, or even against what seems to all these human faculties to
be such. And precisely in this region lie the profoundest facts and
holiest relations. Here we are saved by Faithy which is not one of
the natural faculties so much as the surrender of them all ; and
which begins just where all rational grounds for believing end.
This inadequacy is systematically assumed in the use of the term
" natural " as distinguished from " spiritual." This is what preachers
mean by " the inability of unaided Human Reason to reach Religious
Truths :" — an expression which conveys an absurdity : since Reason
can never be unaided, and the relation of the human mind to all kinds
of Truth must be essentially the same.
There follows of course, from these premises, the necessity of a
"Supernatural: Revelation" to enforce the truth which our natural
faculties cannot recognize, and of the blind acceptance thereof in the
name of " Faith," as alike our duty and our safety.
Now a " Supernatural Revelation," that is, a revelation under other
conditions than those of the natural faculties through which all our ex-
perience comes to us, has been already shown to be impossible. So
has the blind acceptance of anything, save what the actual state of
these faculties, here charged with impotmcCy alone enables them to
apprehend and alone serves to guarantee. The bridge, like the great
gulf it would span, is therefore illusory. Nevertheless the illusions
themselves are to the last degree mischievous, and abolish the self-
respect on which our liberty largely depends. This illusory accep-
tance of a " Sup>ematural Revelation " \s practically outward compul-
sion and the suppression of our inward fireedom. It is but another
name for the consignment of the Spiritual Constitution to incompe-
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1^6 The Radical.
tcnce and even idiocy in spiritual things. And the result is some-
thing sadder than a mere illusion.
For once assume that there is a sphere, and that the most vital in hu-
man experience, in which rational evidence would be an impertinence,
and Truth is positively unrecognizable as Truth, and must be taken
upon an authority which forbids inquiry, while the Reason has no
function but to suffer shame, — and the step is almost inevitable to
that fatuity which makes Religion to consist in believing the irrational,
and a doctrine to be all the more credible for being absiu^. Is it then
strange that we find Christians vying with each other as well as with
Jews and " Heathens," in ascribing cruelty, folly, and caprice to the God
in whom they are longing to find rest : that they call Him Allwise and
AUgood, and yet believe Him to have appointed Labor and Death in
wrath, twin curses, drawn swords waving men off from a lost Eden ;
to have doomed a part of His children as yet existent only in His
purpose, to everlasting wo ; to have punished all men for the sin of
one, and then a Sinless One for the crimes of all : — that they believe
the Spirit in whom we live and move dwells apart from the Order of
Nature, entering it only to violate the laws on which all our reasoning
is founded and all our peace depends ? All this comes legitimately
from their doctrine that the natiu'al constitution of the Soul is incapa-
ble of reaching Religious Truth. If looking through its eyes at this
sphere of Thought, they are bound to see wrong, then of course that
belief which most perfectly contradicts what they would naturally see,
must for tlioi very reason be regarded as true. Hence Tertullian's
^^ I believe because it is impossible J* Hence the aphorism of Sir Thomas
Brovoie : — " There are not impossibilities enough in Religion for an ac-
tive faith?^ With what kind of a Spiritual Constitution did these men
suppose God had endowed them ?
" A Christian," said Lord Bacon, " is one who believes three to be
one, and one to be three ; a Father not to be older than his Son ; a
Son to be equal with his Father, and One proceeding from both to be
equal with both ; a virgin to be mother of a son, and that very son to
be her Maker." And elsewhere : — " The more incredible and absurd any
divine mystery iSy the more do we honor God in believing it^ and so much
the nobler the victory offaithJ^
" This," cries Dr. Manton, " is the great mystery : Three and One,
One and Three : we cannot comprehend it and therefore must admire
it O most luminous darkness ! They were the more Three because
One, and the more One because Three I Were there nothing to draw
us to desire to be dissolved but this, it were enough 1 " Most assuredly
BO ; if this is the state to which faith has reduced the moral and intel-
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 157
lectual nature, we may well admit that the sooner it is dissolved, the
better.
All this has its explanation of course, in widely prevailing experi-
ences : and, is in part, with really devout persons an extravagance of
reaction, due to the consciousness of moral dereliction and defect
But the disgust that hurries men into the condemnation of their own
nature is like some blind endeavor of the population of a planet to
turn it from its orbit Their indignant levers cannot pry them out of the
grand safe tracks which God has laid in His heavens and launch them
into the dark Inane ; but the insensate desire and the misapplied ef-
fort can sadly pervert and stultify their powers. This humiliation of
Reason, making monstrous paradox the test of truth, has served as
the leverage of spiritual despotism, giving it power to master the phil-
osopher and the fool alike. Upon this theory of the treacherousness
of the spiritual faculties, every sect hastens to find some creed or
Church, some infallible record or personage, to save it from the perils
of free inquiry, and afford transition to a system of imperatives,
where the deceitful function of Evidence shall cease, and the safe
rule of Faith begin. The faces of the Protestant and Catholic Theo-
logies are, in this respect, turned much the same way,* The Catholic
Chiirch knows this, and confidently waits her hour to gather back into
her fold the seceders who despise those very faculties which prompted
them to secede. One of the acknowledged expositors of Unitarian
Theology, in some respects one of the freest, apparently quite uncon-
scious of the step he takes towards the Catholic dogma, asks in all
simplicity, if there is " an honest person on earth who would not be
grateful for an Infallible Bible." (!) What is there, we say rather,
short of utter unbelief in our ability to reach truth through freedom,
that could tempt a sincere thinker to ask for immunity from the dis-
cipline of testing opinion and the joy of earning conviction ; from the
dignity of reaching out further and further in obedience to spiritual
needs into God's open world of truth ? Compare the noble words of
Lessing: — " Not the truth which one possesses or believes himself to
possess, but the honest striving after truth, is what makes the worth
of Man. If God should hold all truth inclosed in His right hand, and
in His left only the ever active impulse to the pursuit of truth, although
with the condition that I should forever err ; and should say to me :
Choose ! I should fall with submission upon His left hand, and say :
Father, give I Pure Truth is for Thee alone I "
In comparison with this, what passes with multitudes, under the
name of Faith, as the crowning grace of the soul, is mere pusillanim-
ity and desertion of the post of honor. In the name of eveiy intel-
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158 The Radical.
lectual and spiritual dignity let it be affirmed, that if Faith be not evi-
dence, but a substitute for evidence, then there is nothing more
fatuous, nothing more pernicious than Faith. It belongs to the class
which Bacon calls " Idols of the Theatre," demonizing phantasms,
bred of false theories of vbion. The freedom and progress of Mankind
are not to be harried by these Spectres of the Night
And what would this Idolatry put in place of the Reason it eri-
slaves, the Intuitions it denies^ the Manhood it d^;rades ?
The answer is, " SupematuralismJ*
There have been specious and elusive definitions of this watchword
of blind belief, by which we must not be misled. We have, for exam-
ple, nothing to do here with theories like that of the ingenious Dr.
Bushnell, who defines the Supernatural substantially as the superphysi-
cal, or spiritual as such : and then argues doughtily from this premise
against unbelievers in Miracles; as if they, or at least the class
against whom he directs his assaults, had ever denied the Supernatu-
ral in that sense of the word. We must not allow the real issue to be
set aside by a verbal turn. If Supernaturalism be distinctively nothing
else than the belief that man has a spiritual as well as a physical na-
ture, then the word is no sufficient sign or explanation of the warfare
which has been raging around it for thirty years between opponents
equally persuaded of the fact whereon this author lays so much stress,
^at Man, as spiritual, is spontaneous and free. The question pre-
sented in that word turns upon a difference, not an identity of belief.
It is the question of the possibility and reality of Miracles, in the
ordinary sense of Miracle : and this implies violation of the spontan-
eities of spirit and of the laws of matter alike ; violation, in other
words of the s^le conditions of the human will, as well as of those of
the human senses : violation of human nature as such. And it is in
the name of the one class of natural verities as well as in the name of
the other that the Antisupematuralist rejects them. To bring a living
soul back into a dead body, or to give sight to one bom blind, is a
spiritual as well as a physical prodigy : and its supernaturalism, were
it possible, would consist in its positive and unmistakable contradic-
tion of the conditions of human nature in its totality. The plough of
the discussion cuts even to this depth. If a speculative thinker can
bring himself to believe that the human will, through the freedom
of its divine spontaneity, is capable of effecting such results, or if he
is convinced that the wonder-working of the early Quakers and more
'recent magnetizers and clairvoyants is similar in kind to that of
Jesus, we may or may not accept his opinions : but we respectfully
decline to recognize this point of view as genuine Supernaturalism^
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 159
He abolishes the very idea of Miracle on which that doctrine stands ;
which may be a very proper thing to do, but assuredly should not be done
in its name : and he puts in its place a theory in Natural Psychology as
explanatory of the New Testament record ; in the discussion of which
explanation, while an Antisupernaturalist may be in some respects
against him, a <Supematuralist must be in all. It is unwise to sow
misimderstanding by new definitions which it will take a long while
to force into currency. It is but fair to the honest believers in Mira-
cle to give them the benefit of their own watchword, and to employ it
in the sense which etymology and usage, as well as its relations to
general theological questions warrant
The genuine Supematuralist means by the word to express his
contempt or at least skepticism towards Human Nature ; as in high-
est matters impotent or unreliable. He means by the Supernatural
the violation of its essential and structural processes, by exceptional
interference from without, made necessary by its unfitness to meet the
demands of existence. The " Miracle," whether in the Bible as a
whole, or in the Life of Jesus as a whole, or in the special '' wonders
and signs " recorded of him, is this violation, and it is nothing else.
If these miracles were but expressions of certain deeper laws of
Human Nature not yet recognized, they would not answer to the
definition, nor would they fulfil the one theological purpose of Miracles,
namely, to supply the deficiencies of Human Nature. If, so far as they
are anything at all, they cannot be anything else than this developed
Nature, it simply follows that Supernaturalism rests on an impossibil-
ity : and the word subtly identified in the general mind with the delu-
sion, must for the present at least share its reproach.
And so the preliminary question as to the possibility of Miracles is
not whether any amount of testimony can be sufficient to prove the
existence in Man of powers over the physical world beyond his pres-
ent experience : but whether any amount of testimony ought to con-
vince us that the structural processes of our nature as such have at
any time been violated or interfered with. And finally, the question
whether certain acts, recorded as miraculous, were ever really per-
formed, is to be settled by two inquiries : first, whether they would
certainly fall within the last mentioned category; — and if so, the
Antisupernaturalist would at once deny them : — and second, in case
they do not so fall, whether the historical testimony is sufficient, on a
full view of the circumstances in which the belief in them has grown
up, to prove their reality. \
But waiving these considerations as to the theoretical possibility
and historical reality of Miracles, we now keep in view simply
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their definition as just given, and its bearing on the Foundations
of Belief.
The authority of the Supernatural is then the authority of Miracle.
And the Miracle supplants all laws of Reason by an overwhelming
edict, which compels implicit belief without inquiry, This is its purpose
in the theological systems, no matter how it be disguised. And the
true defender of its authority must va principle accept this fearful moral
and intellectual chattelhood in its absolute form.
It may be urged that there yet remains one spark of freedom : that
there is at least an appeal to rational evidence through the prelimin-
ary inquiry as to whether the Miracle was actually performed. But
this is by no means the case. Either the book in which it stands re-
corded is to be accepted as true record without inquiry : or if inquiry
be allowed to settle this question, it could not on the theory of mir-
aculous proof be applicable to the substance of the doctrine which the
miracle en/brces. The moment the miracle b accepted as hbtorical
fact, that doctrine, whatsoever it be, is to be taken, without regard to
its apparent truth or falsity, upon absolute compulsion.
For however you may define the miracle, there b no logical rela-
tion whatever between the power to perform it and the power to
authenticate, or even to behold^ spiritual realities. If you should to-
day behold some one walking on the sea, or changing water into what
to all outward appearance was wine, you would unquestionably ask
by what law, as yet unknown to you, these things were done. Just
as certain is it that you would not regard such extraordinary powers
as entitling their possessor to implicit credence in his statements con-
cerning the Will of God or the Duty of Man. The two classes of
knowledge have nothing to ,do with each other. From the days of
the Egyptian magicians with whom Moses is related to have con-
tended in wonderworking, down to the latest clairvoyant, who would
certainly have been a miraculous person in the ancient time, occult
powers have been believed to belong to good and bad persons alike.
Does not John speak of " the spirits of devils working miracles," and
Jesus of " false prophets whose wonders should deceive the elect ? "
How loi^g is it indeed since scientific insight escaped the mediaeval
imputation of being the child of Satan and his ' Black Art ? ' Science
is divinized in these days. Yet do we pretend even now that there
is in the nature of things any reason for believing that powers and in-
sights of this recondite sort are confined to men who hold special
communion with God ?
But I am reminded that on my own admission Miracles proper do
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The Fallacies of Sui?enn»aturalism. i6i
not come within the class of actio!* irivolving merely a profound
knowledge of natural laws. Let it then be said further, whatever be-
comes of " Miracles proper," that nothing beyond such knowledge
can possibly become apparent fo the observer in any wonderful act that
lies within tjie bounds of possibility. Whatever may be claimed as
accomplished by the gifted person, it can never be certain that any-
thing more has really come to pass than the use of some unrecog-
nized natural law for the production of impressions, whether of real or
imaginary objects. And the fact that this will not explain the restora-
tion to life- of one really dead, or the gift of eyes to one bom blind,
is what makes these reported acts historically incredible. Within
their own divinely guarded sphere, the laws of human observation
and apprehension are as has been stated. And looking at these
laws, we may say that the inherent absurdity in the theological idea of
Miracles is that it supposes violations of an order of things which has
never yet been fathomed, and which consequently cannot, in any
credible case, be proved to have been violated. That which may be
only better acquaintance with the forces of nature can be no real evi-
dence of infallible inspiration, or even of superior virtue. Its author-
ity in this respect can only be a blind compulsion.
But let us grant for a moment the credibility of miracles in the
sense claimed ; the soul given back to the body, the eye implanted in
the eyeless socket, the loaves multiplied as bread is not multiplied,
the wine made as wine is not made ; manifest contradictions or in-
fringements of the natural order. By what authority i^ this violation
attributed to the immediate act of God, in attestation of a special
messenger, rather than to some unknown subordinate Power, of whose
moral quality you are ignorant? AVhy should we not insist, that
when once you have allowed that the natural order can be violated,
you have conceded at least this — that it may itself be no work of
God, since it is probable that God would have comprehended the
wisest and best way of working, such a way as would not have re-
quired violation at all ? And if this be so, it is at least possible that
any violation of this imperfect order may be due to a being as imper-
fect as itself, whether good or bad you know not As evidence of
authority from God to reveal His Will, or the substance of spiritual
good, the Miracle b therefore valueless. If you believe the teacher on
the strength of his miraculous works, you act on compulsion, not on
evidence.
And this, in precise accordance with the requirements of the popu-
lar theory of Faith. It is simply the suppression of the natural rea-
son, the repudiation of the Spiri^al Constitution.
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If it be urged that tJis moral quality of the miracle, its power to do
good or evil, will prove whether it be of God, and that the miracles
of Jesus are distinguished from those of Buddha, P)rthagoras, Apollo-
nius and others^ in precisely this way, I shall not enter on these ques-
tions of fact, but simply observe that this is to strike away the alleged
necessity for miracles altogether : since the rational faculty which was
able to determine whether a miracle were worthy of God, would of
course be equally able to determine without the miracle^ whether a
doctrine were worthy of God : which is exactly what the theory of our
need of faith in supernatural testimony denies. And so of the notion
that we may judge of the origin of the miracle, from the moral charac-
ter of the performer. Moral evidence indeed is not supernatural but
natural. In truth it forms no part of the theory, that one should
judge morally or spiritually at all. He is blindly to accept Faith
without reason, says Dr. Arnold, " is not properly faith, but mere
power worship : and power worship may be devil worship. It is Rea-
son which entertains the Idea of God : an idea essentially made up
of Truth and Goodness, no less than of Power."
I repeat it : there is no possible logical connection between the
power to perform miracles and the power to authenticate or even to
behold spiritual realities. The human mind cannot by any rational
process, infer the one from the other. Though one should raise the
dead before my eyes, he could not on such grounds claim my res-
pect-for his statements on matters relating to the Spirit. And
though one rose from the dead, I should not regard him as wiser or
holier on that account A physical resurrection, like that attributed to
Jesus, could not even demonstrate the immortality of the Soul. It
would only prove that the Soul had not yet been really separated from
the body. And if it were a genuine return from another life, it would
afford no proof that in that other life death shall not overtake the soul
at last Assurance of Immortality even as mere endless existence,
depends on other considerations than these. Assurance of Eternal
Life has nothing whatever to do with them. Never by any possibility
can a mere physical or psychological prodigy clear up a spiritual mys-
tery, solve any doubt concerning the nature of righteousness, the facts
of duty, the destiny of the Soul. Its appeal is to a lower order of
faculties and conceptions, to blind wonder, to slavish fear. The
claim of the faculties really concerned in the solution of these mo-
mentous questions is absolutely foreclosed. Moral intuition, intellec-
tual vision, natural sense of the becoming, natural confidence in what
is noble, just, beautiful, thfee are all ignored in contempt The trick
of the so called ' Argument from Miracle ' is to paralyze the inward
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 163
vision by dilating the bodily eye ; so silencing and stultifying the
natural witness of the spirit in the moment when its activity should
be bravest, freest, most self-reliant It declares this activity foolish
and impotent, and proceeds to overwhelm the mind by its display of
mere inexplicable power. It is thus an outrage on the moral, intel-
lectual, spiritual nature : a gross contempt of the highest Court of Judg-
ment known to the soul. To remand one who is struggling with doubt
or longing for light, to the Miracle for relief, is a mockery. What does
he gain by its teaching, if he thereby loses faith in the capabilities of his
mind, in the reliability of his affections ? My whole soul cries out for a
Father, who has made it lovingly and would have me confide in what
it teaches, concerning Friendship, Brotherhood, Duty, Immortality.
The Miracle says : " No J all such testimony is mere fancy, natural
heart, unaided reason, and the like ; but if a man shall rise from the
dead, you may believe what He says about God." See then how I
stand in this exercise of Faith. I have lost respect for the authority
of what is tenderest and manliest in my nature. I have gained a
doctrine taken on outward compulsion, unrelated to my moral or af-
fectional nature, the symbol henceforth not of my freedom, but of my
bondage. Is not this to cry out for bread and be fed with stones ?
Shall we ask for conviction and be answered with coercion — for self-
respect and be remanded to self-contempt — for proofs of eternal law
and be overwhelmed with evidences of universal instability and ca-
price?
It is indeed impossible to take any noble or inspiring belief, any Truth
of vital momenty on the authority of miracle, or of any other so-called
aid to human reason. Only dogmas which contradict reason and out-
rage humanity can be accepted in the inert and comatose moral con-
dition in which this illusion reigns. Whatever men may think about
the processes of their own experience, it is really on the testimony of
their own live hearts and minds that they believe in God as a' Father,
in Justice, in Liberty, in Immortal Life. It is for the monstrosities and
pusillanimities in their creeds that they fall back on Miracles. Yet
efforts are not wanting to make it seem otherwise, even on the part of
sects professedly most liberal towards the rights of the Reason and
the Affections. Traditions of supernaturalism hang about them, and
override the spiritual instincts, often in a very startling way. We must
remember in noting these that men do themselves poor justice in
their dogmatic beliefs, and that the worst of such beliefs are generally
important as signs of dangerous tendencies, rather than as measures
of the real inward life of their confessors.
Here is an instance. I quote a Unitarian writer of eminence
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164 The Radical.
already referred to. ^ The sole condition on which the Bible increases
our knowledge or enlarges our faith, or shows us our duties, or minis-
ters to our sorrows, or draws our spirits to the hope of Heaven, is
that we do heartily assent to its miraculous character and contents.
If this supernatural element be extracted from the Bible, not a leaf in
it would hold together, and the effect would be like taking out the
heart, arteries, veins and bloodvessels of a human body 1 "
To how frightful a moral idiocy would this reduce the spiritual na-
ture, to which all that is good in the Bible must appeal ? There is
then nothing within us which responds to the Beatitudes or the Para-
ble of the Prodigal : and the sole condition on which these can help
us is that we believe water was turned into wine or a man raised from
the dead 1 According to this, we have no recognition of heroism or
sacrifice, or of the beauty and nobility of eternal truths : no capacity
of being encouraged, comforted, inspired by the sight of these or by
the record of them in words that bring us as near to sight as words can
reach. These, in the Bible, are nothing but as the empty corpse which
remains when the heart of a man is taken out and all the channels
of the blood effaced 1 Can the intensest Calvinistic contempt for
human nature outrun this confession of moral and spiritual impotence
from the bosom of the most advanced " Liberal Christianity ? " If
this is Faith, it is little to say that one would prefer to take his chance
with " unaided Human Reason," and the " natural mind." If this is
Faith, then Faith is a phantasmal substitute for Soul.
It is hard to tell whether skepticism or superstition is the more
prominent in the attitude of Supematuralism. It forbids confidence
in the testimony of reason, of the moral sense, of the spiritual instincts
and aspirations. It is thus essentially UnbelUf. It enslaves these
dignities of the Soul to an absolute sovereignty, of a nature wholly
unrelated to, as well as uncongenial with their own : and fiiis is the
essence of Superstition. In the worship of the Miracle, skepticism
becomes superstitious, and superstition unbelieving ; the two passing
into one. And to urge it b to aggravate either of these tendencies
that it may chance to address. For as there can be nothing so fitted
to render unthinking people superstitious as the enslavement of Rea-
son to physical prodigies, so there is nothing so fitted to make skep-
tical persons imbelievers in the Religious Sentiment itself as to
pretend that Religious Truth, which they have found incapable of
demonstration by the understanding, must rest on a blind faith in
Miracle.
The highest Truths are not demonstrable by the processes of the
understanding. So far the skeptical person is right He is right
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 165
in maintaining that reasoning will not establish the existence of God,
the reality of Duty, the truth of Immortality. We cannot see the
how or the wherefore of spiritual existence as He does who is Him-
self the solution of all mysteries. We cannot understand the divine
foimdations on which our being rests. What then will you say to the
skeptical person, who inquires how it is possible for him to accept
what his understanding cannot demonstrate ? You will point him to
Faith. But in what ? You will assure him that there is an authority
above reasoning to which you recur to supply its defect. But of what
nature ? Will it not make all the difference in the world to such a
person whether the authority you present be a positive form of evi-
dence or the negation and condemnation of evidence : whether it be
a faculty of his Spiritual Constitution as legitimate within its own
sphere as reasoning in a lower one, in short, a part of Reason itself, —
or a force outside his spiritual nature, cpming down upon it as the
death of its freedom and the blight of its rationality ? In the one case
you refer him to something he has not yet recognized or appreciated
in the intellectual organization which he honors so jealously : in the
other you flaunt in his face a despotism he can in nowise submit to,
and call it Religious Faith. In the one case you offer Faith as " evi-
dence of things unseen," in the other as a substitute for evidence. In the
one you show him hi§ own inmost belief behind his imagined unbelief;
in the other you back the imaginary unbelief with a fresh sense of
outraged self-respect In the one case you may save him from
this merely speculative unbelief: in the other you assuredly plunge
him into deeper ab3rsses thereof, and shut out the chance of his ap-
preciating the Religious Sentiment by casting reproach on its very
name.
Nor is this true only of the excessively skeptical person. The resort
to the Miracle, in despair of natural evidence for the eternal verities
of Spiritual Life, is absolutely to drift without rudder or sail. It is
better to drop anchor where we are. If I have no inspired guide in
my spiritual organization, no genuine eyewitness face to face with
these verities which my understanding cannot fathom, if beliefs so es-
sential are promised only to an abandonment of self-respect which
would commend the wildest paradox as well, — then will I fall back
manfully on the dim conjecture and the sorrowful doubt Here at
least I shall abide by the faculties that constitute my intellectual san-
ity. I will learn to accept my essential nature for what it is, and come
what may, or perish what may, I will at all events confide therein.
But what must be affirmed to skeptical and believing alike, is that
such a guide withm.om Nature there must be and is. We summon
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i66 The Radical.
all men to Faith — implicit and absolute; — not in miracles, not in
authority supernatural or preternatural : but in spiritual intuitions :
in spiritual necessities, invincible and divine, as natural as the breath
of life.
We proceed then, in the next Discourse, to the Positive Testimony
of the Spiritual Nature, as history and experience report it
But let us note first the Antecedent Probabilities. Is it not rea-
sonable that the more vital needs of man should be provided for in
his spiritual structure as fully as the lower instincts and interests ?
May we trust our senses, may we trust our faculties in business and in
common cares ; and shall our unfathomable yearnings for assurances
of Immortal Life, of the sovereignty of the Right and the Good, have
no guarantee of their legitimacy and their satisfaction ? Are these
consigned over to the mockery of a faith without evidence ? Are we
likely to have been so maliciously fashioned? Of all suspicions,
surely none could be more irrational than this. And furthermore :
have we not in our experience something besides processes of logical
demonstration and material observation ? Have we not also ideas of
Perfect Justice, Wisdom, Goodness ; ideas of what would befit these,
of the kind of human nature these would indubitably create and in-
spire ? We rely on those processes : why not on these ideas ? They
are as natural, as becoming, surely quite as suitable to educate and
ennoble us. Why hold to those and despise these ? Shall the senses
and the understanding have spheres wherein they may win credence,
and these ideas of moral and spiritual fitness be purposeless in us, and
imply neither faculty nor sphere ? It is disloyal to Reason and the
laws of evidence to tolerate the doubt
The beliefs we have mentioned are the justification and crown of
all others. Without them life is a mere stump, an abortive tendency.
And surely it is not more truly the necessity of our imperfection
to be assured of them by some commanding voice in our nature than
it is the necessity of a Perfect God to give that assurance. It is but
a paltry answer to put the old grovelling question, — * Shall the clay
ask of the potter, what doest thou ? * That question dishonors the
Creator as it stultifies the creature. It is not wisdom to make our-
selves idiots in order to find an idiotic God, as He would be who
should form souls with needs not fit nor competent to be answered.
Dare to say ; — if even we would gladly give all noble satisfactions
to exalted or becoming desires, shall not He much more who puts
that wish into our hearts ? Are our affections more considerate, our
minds more just than His ? And if He so clothe such grass of the
field as our lower wants, shall He not much more clothe our real and
vital selves ?
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The Fallacies of Supernaturalism. 167
** What, my soul I see thus far and no farther ? when doors great and small
Nine and ninety flew ope at the touch, should the hundredth appall ?
In the least things have £uth, yet distrust in the greatest of all ?"
It is no sufficient reply to point to the * miraculous life ' of Jesus as
bestowing such assurances once for all. Miracles cannot authenti-
cate doctrine. It is not in the exceptional but in the natural, not in
the temporary, local, and individual, but in the immanent, constant,
universal, that the proof is needed. // is nothing Uss than the justifica-
tion of Human Nature that can justify God, The soul is made to live
in spiritual elements. It must have natural eyes fitted to behold
these, and trustworthy in the beholding. When the well-formed eye
distinguishes objects, it does not need any accrediting from sources
outside the human organs. It accredits itself. It is in direct relation
to the objects. And we are face to face with Life, Death, Immortality,
with the Ways of God and the Needs and Duties of Man. He who
made these for us, made us for them. Our spiritual eyes must be
formed to behold, our spiritual nature to use them ; and we dwell in
them as in our proper home. " We see God twice," says Jean Paul,
** within, as Eye ; withoujt, as Light." Nothing else can satisfy the
conditions of life ; least of all the artificial and imaginary eyes of
Miracle.
And equally from the purpose is it to say, that the Spiritual Consti-
tution has become so perverted that it can no longer discern truth
from error without ' supernatural ' aid. Most assuredly, if there is no
guarantee without this, there can be none with it For this can give
us no new faculty : nor is anything gained by its appeal to an unreli-
able eye or ear, to an incapable organism. But the statement must
be rejected. The premiss must be untrue. Human Nature, by perpet-
ual divine laws, protects itself. We may blunder and we may sin ;
but forever the soul must be essentially fitted to the truths it must live
by, and capable of discerning them by due attention, culture and
earnest will. Every individual soul must partake of this substantial
sanity of universal human nature ; and the light unceasingly falls into
ways prepared for it from the beginning. Our spiritual constitution
is still for us the Voice of God, nor can we hear, nor need we desire
any other.
" Is the lightning enfeebled or dimmed, because for thousands of
years it has blended with the tarnish of earth ? Or the light which
has so long travelled in the chambers of our sickly air, and searched
the haunts of impurity — is that less pure than it was in the first
Chapter of Genesis ? And that more holy Light of Truth, written
from the creation on the tablets of man's heart, which was never im-
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i68 The Radical.
prisoned within any Hebrew or Greek, but has ranged forever through
court and camp, and deserts and cities, — the original lesson of justice
to man and piety to God — has that become tainted by intercourse
with flesh ? Or has it become impossible to decipher because the
very heart whereon it is inscribed is so often blotted with falsehood ? *' .
No I the Lawgivers may break their stone tablets in despair : but
God breaks not the moulds in which He has cast the immortal
Soul. The power of discerning Religious Truth, by whatsoever name
it be called, must ever be essentially unharmed. It may be crippled by
false systems and creeds : the fears and follies of ages may have so
worked in the blood that men hesitate to trust their own spiritual sen-
ses, dare not even go down to their true testimony at all. These may
lie dormant through neglect. Nor can the highest, clearest vision be
given outright and immediately : because it is the condition of all val-
uable possession whatever that we should pay the price therefor, and
this condition can by no means be violated in that which is most
valuable of all possessions possible to man ; self-knowledge and spirit-
ual growth. The organs are capable of testifying only according to
their condition, and stage of culture. But the organs are adequate,
divine, immortal, unfathomable. And in respect for them, and fre^
brave culture of them, lies the path of Religion as well as of Science,
No contempt for them has ever saved men from error. No honor to
them will lead men permanently astray from truth. No supernatural
Bible, nor Miracle, nor Person has ever delivered men from fallibility,
as the follies and superstitions of their creeds, Christian and other,
make amply manifest. Nor shall we ever attain that infallibility
of which the creeds are forever declaiming, except as the certitude of
these organs in all needful knowledge ; and this, in just so far as
by devoutness of belief, by pureness of living, and by expansion gf
mind and heart and conscience to the light and warmth of advancing
knowledge, we fit them to become, as they are meant to be, and ever
tend to be, the Revelation of God.
LOVE'S TRANSLATION.
"Whate'er thou lovest, man, that too become thou must ;
God — if thou lovest God ; Dust — if thou lovest dust,
HOW TO BECOME IMMORTAL.
Become substantial, man, for when the world shall die.
All substance will abide, but accident shall fly. — Angelus Si^u^^
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THE SKEPTIC. •
BY M. D. CONWAY. [ V]
Philip findeth Nathaniel and saith unto him : *• We haTC foun4 him of whom
Moses in the Law and the Prophets did write — Jesus of Nazareth the son of
Joseph." And Nathaniel said unto him, " Can there any good thing come out of
Nazareth ? *' Philip saith onto him, ** Come and see." .... Jesus saw Nathaniel
coming to him, and saith of him, '* Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no
guile."
There is one class of persons in the World who have never had justice
done them. I mean the Skeptics. When a person is spoken of as a skep-
tic, you can see a thrill pass over those present, as if they dreamt of a ser-
pent ; and a mournful silence follows every earnest avowal of doubt. And
yet it would seem, on investigation, that we have no positive reason for the
traditional idea that causes this shudder. Each one of us doubts many
times a day ; and it is by continually testing things by doubts that we come
to correct conclusions in practical affairs. But where the same test is car-
ried into the high matters of the Soul, where it would seem we should be
most careful to carry it, we give up the well-tried rule ; and when a person
is so scrupulous as to entitle him to the name of skepticy we are shocked*
Yet it is a state of mind that is usually involved in temperament, and may-
be traced in the blood to your descent from skeptical or credulous races
and families. " The shapings of our heavens," says Charles Lamb, " are
the modifications of our constitutions, and Mr. Greatheart or Mr. Feeble-
mind is bom in every one of us."
We see the dififerences every day. One man will weep in secret that he
cannot believe the Incarnation or the miracles ; another will swallow ail
mysteries, and only regret he hasn't more. One poor saint will grope
through the world, melancholy, doubting if he is regenerate, or if he pleases
God ; another is perfectly assured that he is of the elect, that he is God's
darling, and gives himself no more trouble about it
Which of these is learning the lesion of this Universe best ? Which is
the truly humble and surrendered soul ? Let that be answered by our first
deeper glance at the circumstance of this our mysterious life, where we find
ourselves as in mid-ocean, with neither shore in sight, — for who can more
than dream of the source of the spirit before it entered his body, or of the
land whither we are borne by each moment, as by a wave ?
The motto of the wise old Gascon, Montaigne, was. Que scais-je t What
know I for certain ? Modem Philosophy, inquiring into every sphere of
science, finds that the uncertainty of our knowledge is the pressing ques-
tion. While man is but a bundle of senses, he never doubts ; Reason is
then in its lowest state. But he is4)resently weaned, as it were, from Na-
ture. And the first separation is the discovery that the senses are at fault
in some instances, and therefore are not infallible. The child at play, put-
ting a stick in the water, is astonished to see it broken at the point where
* From "Tracts for to-day." Published in 1858.
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170 The Radical.
it touches the water ; but still more amazed is he to find, on taking it out,
that it is unbroken. His senses have deceived him. This is his first les-
son in the Law of the Refraction of Light. The Man, a child of larger
growth, sees that the Earth is flat; and when he calls in the mountain,
hears that some one answers ; but presently is astonished to find that he
sees a small mast at sea before he sees the hull ; and on searching for the
sound that answered his call, discovers no one. Here are the first intima-
tions of Perspective, and of the Laws of Acoustics, which explain the Echo
as no longer an invisible nymph. You see that real knowledge begins by
bringing the senses into doubt Its progress is by a perpetual engendering
of doubts, by which one experimenter is led to test the conclusion of the
one who preceded him, and perhaps find his position untrue.
What is certain ? In natural science, men of equal genius have theories
of the stratification of the earth, the earliest appearance of man, etc., which
neutralize each other. Historians are just as much at variance. Csesar's
Wars are questioned as being much more insignificant than was supposed,
and much reduced in number. Homer is no more the conceded author of
Iliad ; and it requires hundreds of learned volumes to shgw that Orpheus
ever existed.
If there was anything we might have fixed on as certain, it might have
been once the existence of matter and our own persons. But we are now
in the midst of a most heated controversy on this very subject Lord
Brougham has said, " He who has never doubted that he existed, may be
sure that he has no aptness for metaphysical inquiries." .Whether our
senses are to be believed, and whether we should give more certainty or
solidity to their objects, than we do to the dreams we have' — of which we
are equally certain while dreaming. And dreams are not wilder than many
things that men testify to having seen : men raised to life, ascending to
heaven ; health produced by touching the bones of saints ; cities let down
from the heavens. Pious, unquestionable men having united in scores to
testify these things. We are familiar with the sincerest testimonies to mir-
acles the most astounding in our own day, by persons who have no more
interest vto deceive than the evangelists." How far shall we believe men ?
What shall we believe ? Our own senses .^ — they deceive us often ; if you
believe them, you would think two stars close together, which were millions
of miles apart Our own Reason ? All of us haye given up something we
once thought reasonable — why so infallible now ?
Who then is the skeptic but he who holds the balances with unflinching,
though human hand ; who believes that much may be said on all sides, and
will not be rash or partial in allowing one to be heard to exclusion of the
rest ? . He is indeed the true ideal man. The finest elements of Nature*
the clearest of flame, the finest clay, the lightest air, seem to combine in his
composition. As was declared of one in the old Bible, he is as the eyes of
the Lord, which run throughout the whole earth. He sees many sides of
things where men generally say, " Sit down, eat, and ask no questions."
He is the man who comes into the world to consider, cumJHv, For the
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The Skeptic. 171
word skeptic, however much we shudder at it, really means the lofty char-
acter I l^ve indicated. The Greek word from which it is derived is
CXBTttOfjiai, literally, / sAade my eyes to look steadily at something. And a
skeptic is one who would shade his eyes of all but the light necessary for
seeing — would divest himself of all self-interest — would dismiss passion,
and steadily examine all that comes to demand his acquiescence. These
are the men in all time, who, by earnestly pressing established positions,
detect their fallacies, if they have them, make them more certain, if they
have them not. The laws of Gravity, Circulation of the Blood, Fluxions,
Motions of the Earth, came by skeptics. And those who are not skeptics,
have been those who in every age of the world have abused, scourged,
burned, crucified those who, by finding these new laws, brought the old
order into doubt on which they had fastened themselves as parasites.
But men ask, Are we not warned against Doubt in the Scriptures ? Did
not Jesus, as he reached forward his hand to sinking Peter, cry, " O thou
of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ?" Did he not tell them that if
they should have faith and doubt not, they should remove mountains ? And
there is a phrase coined ftp by translators and Churches as a sort of bullet
for skeptics, taken from Paul, as is said, " Whoso doubteth is damned."
But with regard to the few phrases where Jesus is said to have rebuked
doubt, it is to be observed that the word does not refer to doubt as we
mean it, but hesitation to do what you are already certain of as right. The
word used is edusracag, and means that kind of doubt which all will unite
in reproving ; that which stands still before known duty. But Paul says.
Whoso doubteth is damned — if he eat, (The word does not mean damned^
but, is judged.) The amount of this and the whole of J^om, 14, is this : in
regard to the question asked him, whether Christians could eat anything
without respect to Jewish prohibitions on certain kinds of flesh, he says :
Eat what you will. But if you find eating certain things incites we^er
brothers to real excesses, you had best abstain. But if you doubt whether
you may not be doing wrong, you commit a sin, — for doing anything you
are not sure is innocent. It is the same as Cicero's maxim : What a man
doubteth to do, that he should shun. On the contrary, it was Paul who
called Festus " most noble," in the very moment in which he had declared
that he doubted on all those things of which he heard Paul preach !
And I wish now to call to your attention Chris fs treatment of a skeptic.
For the little we know of Nathaniel, which is that I have read you in the
text, indicates him as a skeptic. And there is something in this brief his-
tory, and especially Christ's singular and earnest commendation of him,
which excites a desire to know all we can of him.*
Those among the Jews who were really religious, as the studious and
wise in all nations, were in the habit of going alone to think and read. The
hypocritical loved, as we find elsewhere, to pray, standing in the synagogues
and street-corners. It is thus a matter of interest that Nathaniel was found
by Philp imder a fig-tree, a kind which abounded a short distance from the
city. It was there that an eye rested on him that he knew not of; one that
couki never see this retired meditation without deep interest It was the
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172 , The Radical.
eye of Jesus. He also had gone from the busy haunts of men, and doubt-
less had seen him, when his own spirit was burdened with a world's
Evangel, and he would fain commune alone with his Father. • So when
Jesus was asked by Nathaniel, " Whence knowest thou me ? " he said,
" When thou wast under the fig-tree, before Philip called thee, I saw thee."
. . . There is something here left to the imagination to supply. For the
^bare feet of Christ's having seen him under the fig-tree can scarcely account
for the great emotion with which he instantly exclaimed, Rabbi^ thou art
the son ofGody the King of Israel. Some have thought that this arose fi-om
Christ's having supematurally seen him under the tree ; and the disciples
may have so understood it But, though I shall not oppose those who find
this to be the best element discoverable here, I will only say that I think
otherwise. I believe that there was something known to Jesus and Nath-
aniel alone, relative to his being in that seclusion. Men do not ordinarily
leave the city for solitude and thought Some earnest emotion there was
which led this soul away from the shallowness of the city and the hypocrisy
of the Temple, — some knowledge of the Father which seeth in secret, it
implied, which at once riveted the attention of Jesus. We know not what
earnest prayer, that the Messiah might come to redeem the people, went
from Nathaniel's heart We know not what immortal tears were wept in
that retreat over the woes and sins of his nation and himself But we do
know, that it was in the mind of Jesus to compare this favorably with the
apathy and evil which he everywhere saw : here^ at least, was no hollow
pretense, but real fervor and feeling. And now as he was selecting his dis-
ciples, he probably sent Philip to the place where he had seen this good
man. For the record says, Philip^^id^f/A Nathaniel, as if he had been seek-
ing him. And when he saw Nathaniel coming he said, Behold an Israelite
indeed in whom is no guile. As if he should have said : " There are in the
city thousands of Israelites by circumcision ; children of Abraham by the
mint- tithe and cumin process. Here is one indeed; not outwardly so
much as they who are in the Temple, — but in reality, because within him
is none of their hypocrisy or guile."
And yet, this man of such earnestness and beautifrd simplicity, who was
declared by Jesus without guile, was a skeptic. When Philip found him
under the tree he cried with entire confidence, »— " We have found him, of
whom Moses in the Law, and the Prophets, did write, — Jesus of Nazareth,
Joseph's Son." But he finds no ready belief The incredulous answer is,
** Can any good come out of Nazareth f " That city had become proverbial
for the degradation and sinfrdness of its inhabitants ; and Nathaniel had all
the reason to doubt which we should have, if told that the Christ had come
a second time at Paris or Rome. We must wait to see much evidence first :
for we have known from them much evil and little good.
Though incredulous, Nathaniel, as is every soul worthy the name of
skeptic, was ready to be convinced, was ready to go to any pains to find out
the truth. It is for the scoffer, the infidel to refuse to examine and believe
the truth ; not so the skeptic He stands to try the case. And he alone is
the true man who will neither believe or disbelieve without considering.
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The Skeptic. 173
So when Philip, in answer to his doubt, says, Come and see^ we find him
immediately leaving his retreat and following. When Jesus saw him com-
ing and said of him, Behold an Israelite indeed in whom is no guile, — << After
this," one might say, " Nathaniel should have believed." But faith in the
Messiah was something more to such a man than the acceptance of com-
mendation. He could not yet give him the high veneration and simple faith
which alone were, he felt, worthy his own soul and the true Christ He
asks still, " Whence knowest thou me ? " But when Jesus told him that he
had judged him thus from the devotional scene under the fig-tree, and he
felt that he who professed to be the Messiah, was one who judged men, not
by seeming or usual standards, and that he esteemed him a true Israelite
not because of the Law or Circumcision, but because he went alone and
was guileless, — he felt that the true man had come ; and Jesus and Nath-
aniel met as eternal friends, — met, by divine necessity as atom meets atom ;
and he found in Jesus a true friend, because, in the best sense, a tried
friend ; and Jesus found in this doubting Israelite one who never deserted
him, who left all and followed him, who was with the last who saw him on
the Earth !
Rabbi/ thou art the Son ofGod^ the King of Israel ! Ah, my brothers,
the man who has never gone through the tears and anxieties of doubt, who
' has not been led to wander alone, thoughtful and inquiring, knows not the
thrill of joy with which any high certainty bursts upon an earnest spirit !
He alone knows the real joy of home and fatherland who has long been
separated by land and sea, — who has past through storms, perils, fear.
Ye who have not felt these know not the full magic that lies in the sacred
threshold of home. All joy needs sorrow for its background ; all belief
needs 'doubt.
I know when the word skeptic is mentioned, vague images of dread arise
as spectres in the mind. Men think of such names as Rousseau, Voltaire,
Hume. And in nothing have the vulgarity of the pulpit and the ignorance
of the crowd been more displayed, than in holding up these as the types of
skepticism. These men were not skeptics : at least, that was not their
real and prominent trait Rousseau had really a lack of faith — not alone
in theological dogmas, but in virtue. His philosophy is of man, — to enfoy;
of woman, — to please. But the skeptic must have fiaith in virtue and God ;
and his doubt is only of those things wherein men say that God and Virtue
inhere. If he gives up the objects of reverence, he does not give up rever-
ence itself; and his Love endures, when the temples in which it wor-
shiped have one by one crumbled, as investigation has gone on. Nathan-
iel does not inquire, mark you, Can there be any good f — but. Can any good
come out of Nazareth /. It is not the good he doubts, but only the Nazareth.
And the skeptic's idea is not that of Voltaire. The one is an anxious
search for truth — the other, scoffing and persiflage. How different was the
spirit of Voltaire when he said, as some one spake of Jesus, ^^ I pray you
let »ff never hear that matCs name again^^ — from the eagerness with
which Nathaniel obeyed the request of Philip, Coine and see; and when
confvinced, was ready to leave all and follow hixn.
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174 The Radical*
Nor is it the skepticism of Hume which we commend. He was, however,
hi nobler than the rest, and his brilliant culture and excellence of character
we can all admire. Yet Hume made doubt the object, to be certain of
nothing, the highest condition, of mind. But the true skeptic only accepts
doubt as the means whereby he is ever climbing from doubt to greater and
more beautiful certainty.
When will the world learn that it is only strong feith which can make
skeptics. When men doubt, and suffer and die for their doubt, as they have
done over and again, surely this would seem to require some faith. There
is more faith even in religious error, than in the truest of inherited creeds.
For none are so little in peril of thinking erroneously, as those who never
think at all ; and no one will ever be a religious skeptic, who has not
enough faith and interest in the subject to search into it, and see that there
are doubts connected with it, as with everything imder Heaven ; no one who
would be unwilling to spend his life, if need be, in conflict with the hard
ore, simply from the higher value he places on the pure gold it holds.
After all, skepticism is only the garment of faith. The great skeptic is
always the great believer. And he who has a faith which absorbs his na-
ture, which fills his mind and life, as the sap in the tree fills the smallest
veins of ten thousand leaves, he, I say, having this faith, can only speak it
out in a series of skepticisms and paradoxes. When one states the deepest
thing he feels on a subject in any company, there is always an ominous
silence, which hints that your faith has clothed itself in perilous language.
After the timidity that is inspired in some minds toward bravely encoun-
tering the highest questionings, arising from the idea of its reprobation by
Scripture, and by Jesus ; then, from associating therewith certain reprehen-
sible characters ; — spectre third rises in a horror at certain namts. The
Goddess Yoganidra, whom the Orientalists believed in as th& illusory and
beguiling power of Vishnu, in modem times has worked in the power of
names, which are made to serve for facts, which they are not, and, e^^cept
by analysis, often misrepresent Such names as Skeptic, Heretic, Free-
thinker, Latitudinarian, have been himg up as scarecrows in the Lord's
vineyard. Many have been frightened thereby from the richest fruits of
thoiyg^ht and experience ; even as some ancient tribes knew nothing of fruits
of the nut kind, or of shell-fish, thinking them altogether as hard and solid
as their shells. But even these names, when divested of cant meanings,
contain rich kernels. What does Latitudinarian mean ? Why, one whose
sentiments are broad and liberal : who will not bind to any dogmas of his
own the salvation or excellence of others ; and will admit the possibility
that he may omit seeing one side of the sphere, while he looks at the other.
Skeptic means, as we have seen, one who considers ; and there is no
more terrible satire on what the Churches have given men to believe, than
the fact that the word skeptic has come to be almost synonymous with infi-
del ; that is, considering these dogmas is the sure way to reject them I
The same may be said of the word heretic. It is simply iu^oo, to choose $
and signifies one whose own reason and conscience, and not those of an-
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The Skeptic. 175
other man or set of men, have decided what he shall or shall not believe.
And that this word meaning to choose^ should popularly mean an unbeliever,
simply states with unconscious honesty, that men who have the choosing
of their own faith, that is heretics, are rarely known to choose orthodoxy.
And yet Churches are found to blaspheme God in his construction of the
necessary functions of the human mind, and to insult the noblest part of
man, by circulating tracts entitled, Confessions of a Skeptic, "Freethinker's
Death-bed, and the like trash I
I will take you to the death-bed of the greatest freethinker who ever trod
the earth. It is a hard, severe one, and there is much agony on it A ter-
rible freethinker's end, you may say ! It is only about eighteen centuries
back. X^t death-bed is the cross — that freethinker is Jesus. Never
before had a spirit of doubt been let loose with such resistless power on this
earth. His doubts led him to the doctors' feet at first, where his parents
found him inquiring of them in the Temple ; they led him to the wilderness,
to the cold mountain and the midnight air. He brought all the existing order
into doubt Pharisee and Scribe, Temple-service and Palace, Church and
State bear witness that a fearful questioning of all things is at hand. Every
drop of his blood is paid for free thought. Every wound in his body, as
we see it there, pleads in silent eloquence that men should be large and
free, and unbelievers of all untruth ; that the soul should plant itself firmly
on its own instincts, and hesitate forever ere it sanction what may be false,
knowing that every falsehood injures somewhere 1 Around that freethinker's
death-bed, the voices of the darkness, agony and death, cry out to Chris-
tian souls, " Be freethinkers ! If you must be so, with the only reward a
crown of thorns, a cross your last bed, a mother's powerless tears at your
feet your only sympathy, still, be thinkers and be. free ! "
What love of such a being as this is worthy either of him or the gran-
deur of the Soul ? Is the love of a slave, who fears ? Is a blind, unreason-
ing, and therefore undoubting, acceptance a fit worship to him who died for
spiritual liberation ?
Thou brave young man ! to whom faculties are given to be the germs of
other faculties that shall forever aspire to the Infinite Light, — cherish every
doubt that comes of simplicity and truth ! As the little polypus presently
shows on it a dot, which draws to itself strength until it expands into
another organized animal, so the doubt that arises is only the germ of
some higher Truth that God would unlock from thy facilities. Cherish
every doubt I To quarrel with these convulsive throes of the mind whereby
new truths enter, would be to censure the fiery seethings at the heart of the
world, which presently cast up through the boiling sea some fair island firm
to the step of man. For there is nothing solid that was not once fluid, nor
stable which was not doubted and tried. And Skepticism is the only path
to a noble certainty. " He " says Lord Bacon, " who will commence with
certainties will end with doubts, but he who is content to commence with
doubts may arrive at certainties.'*
I know that I invite you to much unrest of mind^ to some sleepless nights,
perhaps. But who would evade the Eternal Laws and say to the Spirit of
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176 The Radical.
Life, "Pass on !■ animate the world, — kindle every star; let the great
Heart beat from ocean to ocean ; let the power fill full every trunk,
branch, twig, leafi vein of Natiu-e — but leave mc alone to sleep I Let none
of the divine currents fill me, thrill me ! "
For you can write the entire history and secret of this Universe on the
smallest leaf of the forest. It is Motion and Rest Rest, the sleep ; mo-
tion, the dream : Rest, the Economic life ; Motion, its Poetry. Nature lies
as the enchanted Princess in the fairy tale ; Motion is the Prince who un-
chains her spell and restores her scepter and palace.
And these forces of the World, Motion and Rest, enter the spiritual Life
as Doubt and Certainty : the twin sisters of the inward world.
For there is nothing certain save through doubt of its certdnty ;• nothing
doubtful except by the greater certdnty of that which brings it into doubt
And men are ever climbing fi-om certainty to doubt and on to certainty
again, — as men go to war for a more stable peace.
Let us see that we do not too much love Rest or Certainty ! The wis-
dom that Cometh from above, saith the Book, is first pure, then peaceable.
The love of the peace that certainty invites to, amid as much evil and igno-
rance as are in this world, is the love of death. So are we told that those
who are in regions too cold for life, desire nothing so much as to sleep, and
that sleep is death.
But let us on the other hand not love doubt as an end, but as a means.
This unresting life of the Inquiring soul is not fair and good in itself, but
as prophesy of a higher Rest It is thus with what we call the beauty of
motion. Motion is not the element of beauty, — but in the motion we have
a succession of attitudes and rests. The gazelle leaping over the crags pre-
sents a series of beautiful pauses. Of any one of them we should soon
weary ; but each movement promises a position more full of beauty than
the last. And .we know that the grand and noble element in the doubts of a
Human Soul in its endeavors after the Highest, is the promise it gives of
the attainment of Rest after Rest, upon Truth after Truth, — all to be won,
not given!
There is beneath, a great sea of darkness, but above, a greater sea of
Light flowing forever downward* — all-conquering Light ! And into every
soul some ray of the God enters, enough to warm it with love, to purify,
amidst allMoubts. It is certain that enough is known for a good life.
Meantime that one little ray that yet dispels not the gloom, prophesies to
as the perfect day ; for the path of the Just is as the sun which shineth
brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.
O my brothers, across these quicksands of doubt lies the strong shore of
Faith ; let us press on I And to thy darkest hour the vision of our earnest
Christ shall surely come. Lo ! over the centuries his hand is outstretched,
his lips move to-day : Courage^ doubting hearty whilst thou wast yet under
the fig-tree, — there in thy secret doubt andsorrow, — I saw thee : struggle
<wf, if need be, ayear, a thousand years : only be without guile, and on this
formless void of Doubt the moving spirit shall bring the Eden of a perfect
knowledge / •
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IDEALS.
Angels of Growth, of old in that surprise
Of your first vision, wild and sweet,
I poured in passionate sighs
My wish unwise
That ye descend my heart to meet, —
My heart so slow to rise 1
Now thus I pray : Angelic be to hold
In heaven your shining poise afar,
And to my wishes bold,
Reply with cold,
Sweet invitation, like a star
Fixed in the heavens old.
Did ye descend, what were ye more than I ?
Is't not by this ye are divine,
That, native to the sky,
Ye cannot hie
Downward, and give low hearts the wine
Hiat should reward the high?
Weak, yet, in weakness I no more complain
Of your abiding in your places ;
Oh still, however my paia
Wild prayers may rain.
Keep piu-e on high the perfect graces,
That stooping could but stain.
Not to content oiu* lowness, but to lure
And lift us to your angelhood.
Do your surprises pure.
Dawn far and sure
Above the tumult of young blood.
And starlike there endure.
Wait there, wait and invite me while I climb.
For see, I come ! — but slow, but slow I
Yet ever as your chime,
Soft and sublime.
Lifts at my feet, they move, they go
Up the great stair of time. d. a. w.
3
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ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAIRUS.
The Gospel. — The Gospel is the good news. It is the voice which
crieth, " Peace on Earth:' But it saith also : " Not as the world giveth."
The world says, " Peace at all hazards, on any terms." The Gospel saith,
" Peace when 't is won. I will overturn, overturn, overturn ! I will remove
the diadem and take off the crown until the Idea and the Life come whose
right it is to reign. I herald the goyd news of that peace on earth which
shall come as fruit, as harvest, as victory. My reign shall be the prosper-
ous reign of Truth and Freedom ! "
The Gospel is uncompromising. It sticketh for the whole Truth, the
exact Justice, the perfect Love. Casting out fear it trusteth these for all
triumphs.
The Gospel requires the breaking of many old idols. Men hear it im-
willingly, and say, " It is ^tf</news."
But knowing whereof it affirms, seeing through the gloomiest night the
morning's flush, cheerily it hails the angel :
"Onward speed thy conquering flight,
Angel onward fly 1
Long has been the reign of night,
Bring the morning nigh ! "
To-morrow. — Victor Hugo writes, " Ther^ is only one way of refusing
to-morrow ; that is to die." Since the world cannot die it must accept to-
morrow. It cannot have another to-day. It deludes itself continually by
calling each new day by the same old name ; but that is nothing. What's
in a name ? The morrow must come with new and better life ; else, why
not end with to-day ? Some people distrust the futiu-e unless it will repeat
the past But will such people listen ? — there comes a future that you may
make the pasty the present, better. Up then, and be doing. Accept to-
morrow— you Ve got to I
Kingship. — The dream of Thomas Carlyle's whole life has been to get
the world infected with his idea concerning the " Good King." A certain
kind of hero himself^ he has ever been the most loyal of worshippers at the
shrine of great men. And of late* years he would seem to have gone wholly
mad with enthusiasm for his great Frederick. * Ballot boxes ' have been
the night-mare and bane of his philosophy. ' There can be no good groimd
out of them. If of every ten men dropping ballots, nine are fools, tell me
what you shall get as result for this ballot-boxing ? '
But this giant with his kingly conceit, finds at last in Republican America
a boxer stout enough for his fist-a-cufl&, and quite able to break his skepti-
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Enlightenments. 179
cism on the wheels of her progress. There is a rumor that he relents, and
that his " American Iliad," which he put into a * nut shell,' shall one day
by himself be recast in different mould, and be of such character and di-
mensions as can be contained in no shell whatsoever. But however this
rumor shall turn out, we may with good grace follow the example of our
President at Washington, in the case of the martyr-rebel, John Mitchell,
and consent to remember nothing of his * American Career,* while we think
only of the 'loyalty ' of his earlier services in the production of many inspiring
appeals. No one can read his fine essays on " Heroes and Hero-worship,"
without detecting the presence of a really earnest and public-spirited man,
dealing with the characters of men, who, in one way or another, do com-
mand reverence in eminent degree. And there is such proportion of truth
running through all his philosophy that it fascinates and charms. We do
want to know the value of great men and give them sway. We want to
seek them out and place them in power with authority of voice and action.
But precisely here comes the difficult question for Mr. Carlyle to answer :
How to choose the Good King ? For in denying the ballot box he leaves
no open door to the throne but that already opened by the * divine right ' of
old hereditary Kingship, or that of some successful usurpation. This de-
nial of good sense and honor to the common people sufficient for the
choice^ must likewise be a denial of the good sense and honor necessary for
submission^ whenever, by whatever chance-fortune, the * Good King ' shall
seize the government reins. Loyalty to the Highest and Best is a product
of Intelligence. The wise Will of obedience comes at least of an under-
standing heart. So it happens the ' Good King ' can sit on his throne in
peace and safety, only as People can understand * who is this that cometh
in the name of the Lord ? ' recognize his * divine right,* and obey.
But is not this equal to a request that he abdicate in favor of the
people themselves ? Is it not Democracy made, not only Right, but Expe-
dient and Possible ? If the people are wise enough to know when they are
well provided for and to submit accordingly, are they not wise enough also
to choose^ or to keep on choosing, if peradventure, they find themselves de-
ceived ? In this very act of choosing are they educated in Wisdom and
Virtue.
The Good King acting loyally his part and doing all for the people — see-
ing to it that no injustice is wrought in their ranks, that there are none to
want, but that order, plenty, peace and happiness abound for all — would
indeed, right royally do God's supreme bidding — if^ in fact, that were God's
bidding.
But I look for other statement than this \o unfold the Divine Order and
Purpose. I look for that statement which shall explain and vindicate the
Kingly wisdom native to the common people, and show that there is a loy-
alty of the human heart to Ideas, such as it has never revealed in all its
devotion paid to Men.
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CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT,
Passed by Congress, January 31, 1865 ; Ratificaition Completed,
As BY Proclamation, Dec. 18, 1865.
" There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that
rcpentcth." — Luke xv : 10.
SO long as heaven keeps earth in its knowledge it will have joy over a
repenting sinner. For the divine purposes, which are invisible, must
sympathize with every visible recognition of their fitness and beauty,
with every return from human aberration to the path which they prescribe.
The Earth is in the harness of supernatural powers ; it may not be able to
turn and see them as they drive —but its career is safe only upon condition
of implicit obedience to Uie hidden WilL
Every departure from this Will produces diflSculty and pain. A careless
man cannot violate the regulations of his body without having every case
checked off to him as he goes ; for he is self-registering in body and in
soul. By and by, when the accumulation threatens to paralyze all move-
ment, it announces the fact in a way so unmistakable that the individual
must instantly choose between life and death. The little abuses keep their
own calculation, and go all the time equipped with their own revenge. But
the exhilarating sense of returning health which the body has, or the soul's
feeling of a restoration to harmony with its own supernatural laws, Is a token
of a pleasvu-e shared by the " great mind that o*er us plans." For although
nothing can disturb the divine equanimity, nothing can change it to indiffer-
ence. If the Father cares for the men whom He makes, how much more
must He sympathize with His own image when it reflects His purity and
truth.
And it seems to me that the invisible worlds must include some provision
for apprizing kindred souls of the great moments in which an individual or
a country selects honor and regeneration : so that although they may be
very far from the details of earth which either vex or thrill, and incapable
of personal cognizance and information, some quality of satisfaction, of re-
assurance, travels to them by the sympathetic cords that keep up truth's
intercommunication through the universe. It is not necessary that a mother
shall learn the fortunes of her prodigal, but if the invisible air trembles to
every vibration, as the visible does, it will be difficult to prevent her from
being thrilled at his return to her own innocence which once fed his. Death
separates individuals, suspends personal intercourse, and lets no knowledge
through ; but unless it cuts at the same time the unity of laws, and the
sympathy of every part of the universe with its own health and order, it
cannot intercept these notices, which come and go unnamed. Else whence
this emotion at a great moral victory : and why are we mastered by it if it
be not larger than ourselves ? The bosom is heaped up by a spring-tide
whose first wave rose in the depth of heaven^ pleasure ; it is the reboimd
of news which earth telegraphs into the invisible. The persons who once
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bore the names of Washington, Adams, Franklin, Channing, Parker,
may be far enough off in all their business and intelligence, incapable of
transmitting a single hint to us, or of receiving a single item from senates,
homes and battle-fields, unless the martyrs of the country passed from pri-
son and victory into their society ; but if when death breaks a heart its
patriotism and its longing for righteousness is not all spilled out, nor its
memory for the great questions, nor its vital hoping for the great causes,
then prodigal America was welcomed by her children who lived and died
for her. Winter cannot freeze deep enough to chill vital joy — too many
hearts on both sides of death are alive — too many minds organized upon
the principles which are the same in all places that infinite space contains.
And all who die with just hearts are detailed upon this secret service —
to carry earth's best moments into the company that is all ready with greet-
ing and honor, and to impart the satisfaction, which heaven itself cannot
give, that its noblest inmates did not labor on the earth in vain.
Regeneration must always begin with a joy that is proportioned to the
shame and the damage which a vicious state produces. The wider the
suffering the deeper the triumph. When a man is torn and blackened by
his excesses, and a powerful body and a large intelligence are scarred, this
power, in returning to the ways of health, fills him with his proper freshness,
and when we think he is about to disappear in night, he is a morning star
again that sings for joy. When he lets his conscience out of jail, where
propensities have kept it, so that it freely walks the great roads of God
again, its feeling of harmony is as deep as its previous sense of discord.
Though he may never have acknowledged to himself that he had hired him-
self out to share the husks, and was too proud to accuse himself with entire
sincerity, yet his joy at being found is the measure of the Father's joy at
finding him. What a confirmation to the truth of such a parable this coun-
try gave when, the other morning, it said, " I will arise " — and six and thirty
states, torn by shot and shell, blasted by the suffering which their licentious-
ness engendered, bleeding at a million self-infiicted wounds, brought to
death's door in the full flush of intelligence and power, voted at last against
death, and arose. I say six and thirty — for the members that have still
soundness in them voted for all the members, and bade them all arise and
go forth to meet liberation and manhood. Conscience turned the sin out
forever. It went, by so many deaths ; it passed out, furiously rending, by
so many wounds : the great profligacy which had been for two generations
wasting our energies, and subsidizing every nerve to promote its pleasure.
America was the yoimgest son of the divine providence. His home was
a continent which emerged from the sea sooner than all the other land of
this planet, as if to mature while history was gaining experience in other
lands. Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me, said at length this
son, restless with hopes and unfulfilled desires. The Father set off a por-
tion of his living to his latest offspring, who took it and journeyed into a far
country, where wasting its substance in riotous complicity with slavish pas-
sions, it fell from fortune to fortune, passing to the condition of a servant^
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i82 The Radical.
hired to do a master's will ; this youngest child of liberty was sent into the
fields to feed that herd which has fattened upon your privileges and grown
wanton in your cheap abundance. But liberty starved while tyranny grew
fat, till she was fain to fill herself with the husks of offices, compromises,
and political advantages which the wily citizen of the world bestowed. How
many times has the conscience of liberty complained that in her Father's
house there was bread enough, and to spare — but in America she was per-
ishing with hunger. Through how many golden and indignant mOuths did
the expectation of mankind declare against the husks ; what intuitions of
the saving truth have been spurned for the sake of quiet, of comfort, of par-
tizan success ! The conscience of America, for many a year confessed —
" I perish with hunger." But the people preferred convenience to con-
science, and put forward able speakers, who exhausted the resources of
statesmanship to make the husks appear to be a superior kind of bread,
adapted to a young and growing soul. Is it wonderful that there came a
mighty famine in that land ? It will always appear wonderful only to those
who think that human measures are more sacred than the laws which God
premeditated in eternity before He gave order to the worlds and conscience
to man.
Consider the evils which were done by slavery. It does not appear to
me that the.'suflferings of the slaves were the worst of these, or the most
noticeable. And if they ever were exaggerated, the argument against sla-
very is by no means weakened. Even if no sufiPerings at all existed, and it
could be shown that every slave lived at the pinnacle of personal felicity,
with every creature comfort, all mental advantages, and as much freedom as
he was capable of using, the horrible damage done to this country by sla-
very remains yet untold. For it was inflicted upon the men and women
who bought and sold the slaves, and who have been the incarnation of
America for sixty years. The damage was done to the actual, responsible,
America, which transacted affairs, held vital relations with the rest of man-
kind, built churches and filled them with irreligion, passed measures that
misrepresented liberty, and whether voting, diplomatizing, teaching or fight-
ing, appeared as the genius of the Western World. A Constitutional
Amendment ! What a phrase of spiritual significance ! Slavery hardly
appears at all in the written Constitution of the country. A stranger might
have read and pronounced it a clean bill of health, which admitted us to free
intercourse with the proprieties and purities of a world. It was fiamed be-
fore the mental and moral constitution had begun to yield to the guiltiness
which fixed a taint in our blood, until it was necessary that amendment
should spring up in the soul of the people before it could be written all
over its parchment of liberty. Our political history is a record of the grad-
ual degradation of the popular mind under the influence of slavery. Suc-
cessive measures that passed in its interest were bulletins of the disease.
Let us not recall the sickening list of compromises with our great evil
which were baptized, as fast as they appeared, with the name of statesman-
ship. Consider how deeply involved with this disease the mind and con-
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Constitutional Amendment. 183
•
science of the country had become, to be at length in such a condition that
the encroachments of the disease appeared to be limitations of it, and the
best intellects of America devoted themselves to persuade the people that
they could not have a powerful and noble country without giving as much
power to slavery as to Freedom. And this, because the sinning members
were bound up in one body with the other members : this seemed enough
to justify the situation of being accomplices in sin. The leaders of the peo-
ple, after spending a winter in Washington, exchanging civilities with the
temper that always presumed upon them, would return to their constituents
with the conviction that the country was in danger, not from the increasing
arrogance of its chief iniquity, but from the developing conscience which
criticized ancf opposed it They lent their fears, and not their reason, to the
people. They said to them, " You will have no health or soundness unless
you let your sin alone : if you let a sin alone it will never grow — cease to
oppose it and it will die out — it was on the point of disappearing when you
began to be distressed by it and to raise the accents of alarm." Was ever
such philosophy offered to the souls of men : was there ever before such a
case of outrage to the law of conscience in the name of Law : did ever the
leading minds of a great nation seek so to prostrate its moral sense before
Law, which derives all its majesty and stringency from the moral sense
when It inspires justice and fitness, and lays broad foundations in the nature
of God ? It was the deliberate effort of intelligent statesmanship to stifle
the voice of God in the heart of the people, by showing that there could be
no higher duty and no truer patriotism than to give way before iniquitous
demands. How would those eloquent denunciations of the higher law
soimd to-day over the graves of the men who thought that they had saved
their country, when they had renewed the lease of sin and comforted the
half-conscious spirit of rebellion ! I wait to hear some accomplice of those
venal years declare that history has judged these time-serving and eternity-
despising efforts — to throw some late laurel of approval, some wild-flower
of magnanimous recognition, upon the graves of the men who spoke for
conscience and went down to death hated by the people. Let the courage
and spiritual faithfulness which tried to secure a great public opinion in fa-
vor of righteousness be recognized by a nation with tardy but whole-souled
gratitude. And teach to your children the names of the men who died be-
lieving that justice brings peace, and crime invites misery and war — those
genuine statesmen of America who proposed the golden rule to solve all
difficu^es, and who, if they could have roused in time a popular conscience
in the hearts of twenty million men, would have anticipated treason, by roll-
ing back the sin upon itself, and thrusting back its flattering advances, and
tearing its compromises to pieces, and forbidding its agents to occupy one
place of trust or of power. Consider how corrupt must have been the blood
which went to and fro between the heart and the intelligence of America,
when these statesmen of Christ were hated and persecuted for believing in
the liberties of America, for prophesying this day, and giving soul, body and
estate that it might come speedily. Here is a test of the damage which sla-
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184 The Radical.
very inflicted upon the men and women of the land, that half a nuUion of
men must die in battle or rot in prison, before we can all see clearly that
conscience was as right then as it is now, as regenerating then as now, as
capable then as now of lifting America to her proper dignity. A conscience
twenty million strong would have been a Constitutional Amendment, a pur-
gation of the body by nature's sanitary vigour so that God's hand would
have withheld the dreadful surgery of war.
Now the tide of life in Maryland flows with Northern teachers of the
negro, through the streets of Baltimore, over the bloody tracks of a Massa-
chusetts regiment, past the jail in which Torrey pined and died because he
acted upon the conviction that color did not settle Freedom. Now the
emancipated slaves in Washington are represented in the Stipreme Court
not far from the prison in which Captain Drayton lost, by disease and igno-
minious treatment, the mind which was once strong and clear enough to
see what Daniel W ebster could not see, that a fugitive slave was a claim
upon the Christ in every soul. How many obscure graves there aie,
honoring the soil of America, of poor men who could not " conquer their
prejudices " for humanity, could not overcome their predilection for simple
justice between man and man, simple-minded but powerful-hearted, who
resisted the infection which rotted away a shapely stem and laid it in the
dust. Far away in Florence, her roses each spring blushing all over his
grave for pride of him, sleeps the true American, who took precedence
of all the statesmen and lawyers of Massachusetts, because his vigorous
intellect was fed from the springs of a heart in which love of men lay deep
and Christlike. Yes — he knew who Christ was, though he paid little lip-
service to his name : but he felt that Christ's conscience was more truly
supernatural than all his miracles, more directly inspired by the Father,
more suited to the wants of men. And he said what Christ said — render
God's things to God : and his sinewy hand held the cup of cold water to
the lip of the fugitive, for he was aware that all his scholarship and know-
ledge was never so faithful and so illustrious as when he was defending
these little ones from spurious patriotism. For doing this — for standing
precisely where Christ would have stood, to rebuke an adulterous and sinful
generation, as he contrasted the higher with the lower law, he was the best
hated man in America. But now I remember that on the evening of Feb-
uary 4th, 1864, the Governor of Massachusetts called the intellect andbeauty
of the Commonwealth to the Music Hall, once filled by Parker's presence
and shaken by his manly speech, to hail the passage by Congress of the
Amendment which has just been ratified. It was Boston's ackno^edge-
ment of the truth of this lover of fugitives and hater of sham statesmen —
she pronounced that he wis right when all the rest were wrong — she saw
the joy of a people, convinced as it slowly waded through a red sea of
blood, break forth in the hall where he prophesied the blood and the regen-
eration. Let the joy grow together and take shape, and become a statue
of honor to stand by the side of Beethoven, that the seekers of pleasure and
of truth may read there upon its pedestal, the sublime motto of a new
America — " Righteousness exalts a natiori."
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Constitutional Amendment 185
But the noblest recognition which a country can bring to its prophets and
its martyrs is not couched in speeches, statues, music, and the loud acclaim of
victorious moments. It reaches the dead who suffered for us, when it reaches
the living who require our aid. Not a true heart ever broke in the gloomy
days which will not heal in the exquisite balm of our acceptance of the
duties which regeneration brings. What a flattery will that be, paid to the
principles that once were scouted, when we accept their burdens and sacri-
fices, all the people hastening to atone for past transgression by present
effort, to substitute gentle consideration for freedmen in the place of oppres-
sive contempt for slaves, to open for them, as they come from this anvil of
war with their fetters all knocked away, every door we guard that leads to
human rights — the door of knowledge, the door of religion, the door of
political equality, the door of professional advantage, the door of sincere
respect, until the whole race shall be added to the nation — to its conscience,
to its religious sensibility, to its physical and civil energy. And what re-
venge, that shall be sweet to saintly hearts, and welcome to the tenderness of
the infinite God, as the treasonable states also bring their tardy recogi\ition
to the mother whose breast they smote in blindness, when the opening eyes
greet the founts of nourishment again, and remorse hastens to heal every
lacerated spot by some dutifulness, some care : the unaccustomed actions
creating in them a clean heart, and renewing a right spirit within them, so
that there shall be a unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.
" Bring forth therefore fiiiits meet for repentance," — this is the language
with which Religion would dignify our hours of rejoicing and confirm our
good intentions. A great country is slowly disengaging itself from this
death-grapple with its own iniquity ; it bleeds and is fiaint, though the
triumph is very clear and strong in the eyes : there are many wounds to
tend, many wrongs to right, much misery to repair — waste places to be re-
built and settled with our choicest things — ignorance to be patiently ad-
dressed — ill-feeling to be obliterated. The wilderness must learn to blos-
som. We must feed and clothe and teach : we must organize a whole
social system upon heavenly principles, and, remembering the mistakes of
the past, make no compromises with half-way measures, but apply the whole
counsel of God to each emergency,' to let back no drop of unsound blood
into the veins of America.
Let us beware about indulging vain-glorious sentiments, to be elated —
to be content with counting the spoils. Slavery is abolished — but the re-
sults of slavery still infest the land — the old prejudices retreat slowly even
before Ais day of jubilee ; it will take.the persistent work of a whole genera-
tion, with almost every man and woman in it faithful, to undo our mistakes,
although a great war goes before to clear the way. Let us all follow, each
with the contribution that expresses best his sincerity, to send living col-
umns of grateful service across the country to search for scars, to hunt
down malignity by gentleness, to resist it by political impartiality, to apply
in various wa} s the spirit of the Christmas text that proclaimed peace on
earth and good-will to men.
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i86 The Radical.
The work before us is enough to make Christians of us all : and we shall
pay this debt to God by lives that refuse to be mean and impure so long as
such exaltedservices shall be required. Let us look to our private hearts,
to see if we are worthy to be living now, and to be portions of a history
such as the finger of providence never yet traced upon the marbles of a
world.
Your dead soldiers invite you to this laborious gratitude. You may go
over the whole land, anxious to plant your tablets of honor wherever you
can find a grave that is tenanted by a soldier, and miss not one of them on
either bank of the Mississippi, and the Tennessee, abng St. Helen's sound,
and thickly scattered around the James ; you may build monuments over
the pits at Anders on ville and Salisbury, and yet make no return, — nay,
you will offend and disgrace these dead men if you draw up a roll of fame and
forget to subscribe it with your own self-sacrifice. They died content to fill
an unmarked and unhonored grave, provided the surviving brothers would
let their names suggest the choicest things. And what are more choice
than* these ? Duty to the freedmen, duty to the widows and the orphans fi-om
the Gulf to the Lakes, duty to the returning prodigals who have eaten the
husks of slavery so long. John Weiss.
ON A FALLEN COMRADE. •
The long and slow procession lags,
The streets are dressed in red and white,
The torn and tattered battle-flags
Go to the Capitol in sight
Clash all your cymbals, speak, great guns,
Enchafe the city's roaring flood ;
But still the thought of silent ones,
Cools down the spring-tide in the blood.
I mark the crowds, I mark the cheers,
But see not in the ranks his form, —
Not here, not here among his peers.
The spu-it of the battle storm.
We little men of little fame.
Ashamed to show our faces here,
Beseech thee, Noble Youth, to claim
The silent tribute of a tear.
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Notes from Scotland. 187
O mock not hyn with foolish praise,
Nor o*er his bones the tale rehearse
With flourish of your idle bays,
Or tombstone of a moral verse.
The brag of youth ands health and ease,
He courted Danger's awful charms.
And pl/eased to thunder on the keys
Of War's dread organ, died in arms.
How well he sleeps upon that shield,
The glorous shield of native worth;
His country bore him to the field.
And Freedom took him from the earth.
Fare/other's Day, Dec, 22. John Savary.
NOTES FROM SCOTLAND.
Robertson, the late eloquent minister of Brighton, said once that the Pro-
testantism of many people and Churches was that they had broken Popery
into a thousand fragments and .then made each separate fragment into a
pope. Is it not true that nearly every one has his Fragment-Pope ? Cer-
tainly every Community has. In Scotland, where many a poor wretch has
suffered the stocks for remembering Easter or Good Friday or some other
papal holiday, they have the most exasperated case of Pope known on these
Islands. That Pope is the First Day of the Week. He is now carrying on
with his rebellious children a fierce warfare. The controversy seems to
have sprang up about the running of Sunday trains over the road between
Edinburgh and Glasgow. This bit of railroad iron has entered the Scotch
Pope's Soul On this subject the Presbytery of Glasgow has been in al-
most chronic Session ; for in Glasgow they have more drunken people, more
illegitimate children, and more rigid Sabbaths than anywhere else in the
known world. But lately this Pope received a terrible shock — something
in feet, analogous to the withdrawal of French troops from that other at
Rome. Dr. Norman M*Leod, — Editor of Good Words — the best platform
orator in Scotland — Dean of the Chapel Ro3ral — favorite preacher and
personal friend of Her Majesty when she is at Balmoral — has been con-
verted into an enemy of the Sabbatarian Pope I He was once sound in the
feith, but at one great leap he has become the Champion of the other side,
and he made a speech before the Presbytery of Glasgow which dissolved
them individually — collectively, it is undissolvable. Dr. M*Leod declared
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i88 The Radical.
that so far as Christians are concerned "the Decalogue is abrogated," and
that if there be one part thereof more abrogated than Jinother, it is the
Fourth Commandment, which not being in itself a moral obligation is not
binding on the conscience. He gently hinted that walking, riding, and even
dining out on Sunday were not sinful ; and he even ventured to ridicule the
Sabbatarian Pope by relating the story of a Scotchman who in cutting a
ham vigorously came to the bone, when he devoutly gave up the carving
knife to an heretical Englishman, observing that he could not venture Jo
divide that on the Lord's day ! M*Leod has been joined by George Stewart
Bums, the fine pulpit orator of the Glasgow Cathedral, and by a rising
young minister, named McQuisten. As the hot-bed of Tetzelism nourished
Lutherism, so it seems that Glasgow — the centre of bigotry — has raised
up the strongest array of anti-sabbatarian^ ministers. It is always so :
action and reaction are equal : positive in one end begets negative in the
other. What if Scotland should lead off in heresy, as Puritan Boston with
its Channings and Parkers did ? However, the other party, who have Jame-
son, Macdufl^ and several others whose names I will not give, as they
would be as unknown to you as to me — though I have an impression that
Shakespeare tells us to " Beware of Macduff," (S. was never soxmd in theo-
logy)— has no idea of surrender, and has passed a resolution inviting sym-
pathetic merchants to withdraw patronage from ungodly railways ! One
good result to the general public has been secured by this fierce conflict*: it
has induced Robert Cox, nephew of the late George Combe, and a remark-
ably austere and thorough man, to explore the Sabbath Question, and to
give us in a book of two volumes — " The Literature of the Sabbath Ques-
ion" — all that is implied in his title. The work, which is considered
justly, next to Dr. M'Leod's name and influence, the biggest gun fired in
the present controversy, Mr. Cox has been eight years in loading. It con-
tains a notice of every book that has ever been published on the Sabbath
Question, and a statement of every important opinion ever offered thereon.
Whilst I am writing on Scotch matters, I may mention that Mr. Carlyle's
first act as Lord Rector of Edinburgh University has been very character-
istic : he has appointed David Laing to be his assessor in the University
Court Snobbery — for Edinburgh has that as well as other places — win-
ces at this ; for Laing is not a fashionable diner-out, nor a wealthy man ;
but those who have any real reverence for the claims of true and unpre-
tending ability rejoice in it. Careful readers of Carlyle may remember Da-
vid Laing as the editor of the letters of Baillie the Covenanter, which served
Carlyle for the text of one of his Essays. He has since then been the most
laborious of Scottish antiquarians, and is at present the Chief Librarian of
the Library of writers to the Signet. Carlyle is to give his Inaugural Ad-
dress next April.
Professor Masson in the course of his abominable Inaugural Address as
Professor of English Literature and Rhetoric in the same University, illus-
trated his negative views of Rhetoric as an art and study by the old Border
Ballad of Kinmont Willie, That Border worthy, he said, having been en-
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Notes from Scotland. 189
trapped by superior numbers by the false Sakeld, has been carried across
the Border, as a prisoner to Carlisle Castle, where Lord Scroop threatens
to hang him up. But the bold Buccleugh, the Keeper on the Scottish side,
resolves on his rescue. So he sets forth with forty march-men, in fo\ir
bands, of ten men each, taking the road at intervals. The first ten were
dressed as himters, the second ten as warders, the third as masons with
ladders, and the last was a ragged band as of " broken men." Having got
as far a^ Debateable Land, whom should they meet but the false Sakeld
himself, who had Kinmont Willie as a prisoner. In trying to pass him
without suspicion, the hunters, the masons, and the warders, easily in-
vented plausible reasons for aossing the Border, when the Sakeld sternly
questioned them. Not so with the last band.
" • Where be ye gaun, ye broken men ? '
Quo' fause Sakeld ; ' come tell to me.'
Now, Dickie o'Dryhopc led that band
And the never a word o*lear had he.*'
That is, Dickie was no rhetorician. Sakeld, getting no reply asks further :
•* • Why trespass ye on the English side ?
Raw-footed outlaws stand ! ' quo' he.
The never a word had Dickie to say :
But he thnist a lance through Sakeld's bodie."
In short, said Mr. Masson, it is Dickie o' Dryhope, who has no " lear "
and no rhetoric, who does the most efftctive feat of the whole expedition
and secui es its success. But, he reminded us, though fine or loud talking
is not rhetoric, we cannot in the present state of society be Dickies o' Dry-
hope. We must be preachers, lawyers, physicians, merchants, schoolmas-
ters, and we shall have to use pen and tongue, and shall find our advantage
in using them expertly and agreeably. A man must manage his tongue or
pen as efficiently as Dickie did his lance, was the impression which the
good old story left on the minds of those who heard it
It is a question whether England could compete with Scotland in the
number of original thinkers and inquirers which it has given to the world
in modem times, or, indeed, which it has now. " A man is not a horse be-
cause he was bom in a stable ; " and there are many vigorous and distin-
guished men who are of Scottish blood, and many more who have always
lived in England since childhood. Mr. Gladstone's parents (both) and an-
cestors were Scotch, and the same, I believe, may be said of the late Baron
Macaulay. The great names of the last generation — Sir William Hamil-
ton, George Combe, John Wilson, and a half score of others will readily
present themselves to the mind. In the present day we have fix)m that
land, Carlyle, Sir Charles Lyell, Sir Roderick Murchison, Professor Ram-
sey, Professors Moir, Blackie, Masson, Dr. Guthrie, George McDonald,
Norman M'Leod, James Hannay, the brothers Chambers, all of whom are
remarkable for original thought and intellectual energy. The English lit-
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190 The Radical.
crary men are perhaps more trained, more critical, but their supremacy in
other respects may be doubted. The schools of thought, especially in
metaphysics, have in late years come from Scotland ; imless indeed Mr.
Herbert Spencer's philosophy shall be recognized as a fresh establishment
in that direction — a thing not yet decided. The particularly philosophical
tendencies of the Scottish mind are shown in its strong alliance with the
German mind. It was not a accident that the great German Literature of
the modem age was a terra incognita to English Scholars until it t&ok the
brain of Carlyle for its lecture desk. The Scotch before and around him
were given to explorations into that region and helped to produce the great
interpreter of the Teutonic mind. And at this day, of the young men who
go from these islands to study in German Universities, seventy-five per
cent are said to be Scotch.
There are few parts of the world, however, in which natural intellectual
vigour has been so much repressed by religious bigotry as in Scotland.
Mr. Buckle's theory of Scotland has daily illustrations. There are original
gifts enough in tWat land to-day to revolutionize thought, but there is no
popular welcome for, but* on the contrary, much popular fear of, freethought
The Scotch intellect has inherited heavier mortgages on it than that of
England. As only apes could be bom before the planet had formed a solid
pedestal for man, so the world of thought must be drained of old bogs, and
the fens of superstition burnt away, before the greatest thinkers can be pro-
duced. There being no literary public, in any large sense, as there is about
Boston for example, the thinkers are driven to have their * Noctes Ambro-
sianae ' to themselves, and can nevet gain the Antaean fibre which' comes
by contact with the general mass of men. Hence one finds Scotch thought
running in the narrow gauge. The best of Scotchmen will be found vehe-
ment in some one or two directions, but weak as a babe in others. Carlyle
is the representative man of Scotland, and we all know that his tremendous
utterance is the result of some great lake pouring — Niagara-like — through
^narrow pass, and over the rock of Scotch bigotry. The English are just
as narrow by reason of insularity. May we not hope that in America is to
be fulfilled the prophecy that
" The thoughts of men shall widen with the process of the suns."
a
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BOOK NOTICE.
The Works of Epictetus : A Translation from the Greek, based on
that of Elizabeth Carter ; by Thob«as Wentworth Higginson. Lit-
tle, Brown & Co. Boston : 1865.
Mr. Higginson has here added to his many claims on the public
gratitude, an invaluable contribution to meet the moral and spiritual de-
mands of the community. Better service could not be rendered the people
than to bring them face to face with those noble Stoics of the Roman Em-
pire, who rescue "heathenism" from unjust contempt, and illustrate the
natural capacity of the soul for the loftiest inspirations of piety and the ut-
most recognition of the Moral Law. For nothing can be more treasona-
ble to democratic principles than a Christianity which claims for itself
exclusive ownership, as against the older religions, in any form of heroic
and devout manhood. Our American theory rests on the accessibility of
the Divine to every soul : on the derivation of all religions from a common
root in human nature. It demands that the inspiration of Jesus and Paul
shall count but as the pre-eminent virtu^ of individual citizens in a spiritual
republic as wide as Humanity ; and every admirable person outside the
technical limits of Christianity is its justification, and should be our crown
of rejoicing. ^
Our best friends are bringing us the grasp of these manly hands across
the ages : our best disciplines are those which teach us that we have no
monopoly of the air and soil needful for the development of such spiritual
nerve and sinew.
Christianity and Stoicism were independent currents, holding in solution
respectively the finest issues of the Hebrew and Grseco-Roman Civiliza-
tions. It is to their junction that we must mainly ascribe the majestic
stream of modem Equity, Ethics and Religion, so far as it is to be explained
by historical causes. The gift of the Stoic was a certain manly faith in the
capabilities of this life ; in the structure of the soul as inviolable and for-
ever adequate ; and in the universe as ever in right relation to the right
user of its laws. It helped to counteract that morbid sense of hopeless cor-
ruption and &ilure both in the spiritual and material spheres, which at last
bowed the Christian Church under the dogma of a Supernatural Atonement
For this brave hold on Nature in an age when even love and piety were
losing £eiith in it, all later generations are debtors to the Stoics. Their words
are tonic and restorative even in the highest stages of human culture.
Their self-reliapce and self-respect are eminentiy suited to recal the fi-ee
citizen fix)m expediencies and compromises, from petty competitions and
subserviences, from all frivolity and from all despondency, to the self-col-
lected thoughtfiilness and faith in ideas which become, and which alone can
save him. There was never sterner devotion to principle, never loftier pro-
test against moral indifference, never more stead£ut steeling of the sou}
against the temptations of the senses, never c^bner endurance of all earthly
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192 The Radical.
straits, than what many of these pagan Independents practised as well as
taught : no clearer statement than theirs of the Etem^ Right and Good ;
theoretically, at least, no wider love of man, no deeper reverence for God.
The Stoics infused equity and humanity into Roman jurisprudence. Their
central idea was the unity of the race : their prophetic vision a grand repub-
lic with God for its ruler, and His Justice for its Law. Nature, material
and spiritual, was His " City ; " to live according to its true dictates, was
to live free and happy, and '' ail that its seasons brought was fruit"
That Stoicism, while exhorting men to " die as became the divine within
them," and requiring no sanction for virtue from the rewards and penalties
of another life, has seemed to some Christian historians to prove its in-
feriority to their own belief. Rather is it. a spectacle of human dignity
unsurpassed in history ; this tribute to the inherent authority and grace of
Righteousness. So to take the highest ideals on their own merits, to love
the purest virtue for its own nobility alone, is indeed to walk in the perfect
liberty of the children of God. If Uiis be not Christian, the worse for our
Christianity.
These great Romans should be greeted as the timeliest and most wel-
come of our guests. Their words should have such praise from us as they
never before received from any age or people. For they are an essential
part of that Bible of Bibles which Democracy demands in the name of Uni-
versal Religion ; the gathered wisdom of holy men out of aU times and all
communions, which it will learn to cherish not with slavish book-worship,
but with grateful recognition and enduring respect
It is good to see the excellent version of Marcus Aurelius by Mr. Long
followed so speedily by this of Epictetus, which in no respect yields to it
as a translation, and will be found in style more attractive to ordinary readers.
No competent scholar will hesitate to award very high praise to Mrs. Carter's
work. Yet this careful and thorough revision of it has resulted in very great
improvement both verbal and essential, of which every page affords exam-
ples. If the philosopher be not righdy apprehended by the thoughtful rea-
der, it will not be for lack of a faithfid rendering of the records left us by
his disciple. Mr. Higginson's preface contains a concise and effective out-
line of his life and belief, as well as of the literature of the subject
There is need of a like service to the works of Seneca, known to the
American public only in the Abstract of his Morals and Epistles by
Sir Roger L'Estrange. And when this has been accomplished, it will, we
may hope, become a common duty and delight to observe how this divine
philosophy, which Seneca himself entitled " the founder of the rights of
man," could place on a common level of spiritual aspiration and dignity an
Emperor^ a Nobleman, and a Slave.
Would we might also recover the writings of those older Stoics, Zeno,
Cleanthes and Chrysippus ; from whom we possess a few fragments, true
for all time ; and concerning whom we know at least this, that they taught
in Greece, previous to the Christian Era, the same principles which we find
in their successors of the first and second centuries. s. j.
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THE RADICAL
FEBRUARY, 1866.
THE NEW EPOCH IN BELIEF.
BY D. A. WASSON.
IN June, a pine forest might seem to the eye of a careless observer
to have been smitten with some disease. The needles turn to a
sickly yellow ; some fall, having quite perished ; some linger, pale
and wan, upon the boughs ; and all wears the aspect of age and de-
cay. But the sad appearance is deceptive : that which seems death
is only a renewal and fresh pulse of life. A closer look will show one
that beneath this yellow shroud the young needles are putting forth,
green and vivid.
The world is such a forest Seasons arrive when the old verdure
is verdant no longer, when traditional faiths, traditional schemes of
social order, grow yellow and sere. Some fall and cover all the earth
with autumnal hues ; some cling d) the places where once they were
green and beautiful, but now in greenness and beauty no more. The
sight is sad to many, and many there are who mourn over it, like
Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted. But
a close and hopeful look will show that the heart of man is still young
and fresh, and is putting forth a vivid foliage to gladden a new time.
We live in such a period of transition. A double movement is
going on — death and birth struggling together, and each conquering
on its proper field. The old traditions perish, perish inevitably. It
was believed for many and many a century, that certain families were
divinely commissioned to rule over nations. That belief is dead.
Even where the forms of it remain, the life does not remain. It was
believed for many a century that there is a particular institution, to
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194 The Radical.
which, as an institution, the grace of heaven is given first of all ; and
that men can obtain it thence only at second hand. But church rule
over the human soul ceases ; all over the world it ceases. In some
lands it remains as a mere piece of routine, from which the nation
cannot free itself; but even there it is only a dead foliage on the tree
of life, which a fresh growth is sure, sooner or later, to push off It
was believed that the whole mind of God, as made known to man,
had been put in print and consigned to the bookbinder — that the
will and thought of God could be known only l^ extortion from texts,
as the juice is obtained from an orange. But that belief also is dead ;
it siurives only as a Sunday formula; in congresses, parliaments,
courts, markets, men act from heart and reason, or else from brutal
selfishness — from somewhat good or bad in themselves.
The old leaves are yellow on the boughs of human life, even though
they have not fallen to strew the earth. Their autumn has come^
their wintfer is near.
Now there are those who find hope for the world only in the res-
toration of these dying traditions. They go about, as it were, with a
paint pot to give back their youthful green to those yellowing leaves.
It avails not To paint them of their first color does not give them
back their first life. They are dead, dead.
But though art cannot restore, Nature can and will replace. She
has an art above that of paint pot and brush. The roots of humanity
strike deep and forever into divine soil : forms of belief die, but the
genetic principle of belief survives, works, triumphs in man's heart ;
the principle of belief is deathless ; it has a perpetual youth, and
quickly replaces the brown acres of autumn with the green blades of
spring. In place of old and outworn despotisms comes an orderly
republicanism, more orderly than despotism ever was. In place of a
dominating church comes free religious association, warm, earnest,
fiill of promise. In place of text-worship comes a faith in God as
forever inspiring the heart of man, and making of that a living Bible.
It is our lot to live in this time of transition, when the world is at
once dying and coming anew to life. Our civilization is in process
of moulting, losing the grace and consolation of the faith that blessed
it of old, but losing only to replace them with a grace fairer and a
solace surer.
Connected with this time there are certainly some discomforts.
Not every one who is willing to go forward can as yet find his way.
For many a one the golden bowl of the ancient faith is broken, the
new not yet fashioned ; he thirsts for the waters of life, and his thirst
remains unsatisfied. There are those who fear that the modem world
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The New Epoch in Belief. 195
has got ** switched off" upon some divergmg track, and is daily plung-
ing away farther and farther into the void realms where no fountain
sparkles and no sweet herbage grows. To some everything is in
question. There are good men in America who sigh for tfie restora-
tion of monarchy. "The best government I know," said to me a
highly cultivated and worthy gentleman of New York, "is the Austri-
an despotism." TTiere are liberals in religion who return and pledge
their fealty to Catholicism. Grown dyspeptic with the strong meat
of radical belief, they hasten to those withered breasts, and would
fain nurse as adult babies there. In one aspect it is a troublous
time.
But is it not also a most hopeful time? Who sees not that out of
the heart of the people arises a new feith ? Who discerns not the
dawn of a new sense of brotherhood } Who does not hear borne up-
on the four winds of heaven, the melodious breathing of a fresh di-
vine aspiration for noble life ? The very pain of the time is due in
part to an accession of spiritual force. It is only the living who him-
ger and thirst Why is it that so many are no longer content to be
selfishly " saved " hereafter ? Because there b a new stir of life in
tfieir souls ; they feel, vaguely but powerfully, the divine meaning of
man's existence. Earnest doubt signifies, not an indifference to
truth, but a fresh attraction toward it, and a more sacred sense of the
obligations it imposes.
Behold this heavenly abhorrence of injustice which has arisen in
America. Is that a piece of " skepticism ? " It is rather an inspira-
tion. God is with him who so cleaves unto his brother.
This double movement is literally world-wide, — not found in
America alone, nor in England, in Europe alone, but under the whole
heaven. China, grey witib immemorial age, rocks with revolutions
and ferments with new ideas. " All civilizations," said a learned and
highly intelligent mandarin in San Francisco, "have their seasons of
growth, to be followed by seasons of subsidence and decay. China,
whose civilization culminated before that of Europe was dreamed of,
is now in her lowest estate : yet is already showing premonitions of a
new career." The English power in India represents a spiritual
hiatus. There too the old ideas have fallen under suspicion; the
old institutions no longer represent die spiritual forces which begot
them, and are therefore a burden instead of being a support But
India is astir with new thoughts. Denial is there rejecting the old ;
faith is there preparing the new. The time surely comes when this
people, so rich in speculative intellect and epic imagination, will arise
in power and beauty, because in belief; once more. Turkey with its
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narrower and duller mind, is in the same state, half palsied, half new-
bom. Russia wars for absolutism, and emancipates her serfs. Italy,
the home of the Pope, leads in Europe the movement toward recon-
struction on the basis of natural affinity ; and her excommunicated
king sends a badge of honor to the leader of the new religious philos-
ophy in France. Louis Napoleon, with all his armies at his back,
holds his throne only by trimming between the old tendencies and
the new. England, the home and fortress of prudent conventionalism,
has not a thinker of eminence who does not represent predominantly,
though mostly in a cramped and partial way, the modem ideas ; and
a powerful reaction against obsolete ecclesiasticisms springs up among
the very dignitaries of her national church. Finally, in America, he
is the popular preacher, as the instance of Henry Ward Beecher
abundantly shows, who can put forth the utmost amount of fresh be-
lief^ with the least possible exciting of traditional timidities ; while
the moral and political ideas of Channing, Emerson and Parker have
been the inspiration of the nation in the struggles and sufferings
through which it has past and is passing. Everywhere is the same
spectacle, d)ring traditions, and a growing faith. Everywhere the
world struggles and chafes under the bondage of an institutionalism,
that can now only bind and never inspire ; everjrwhere it feels within
it the impulse and sacred heat of a fresh believing liberty. Enslaving
institutionalism on the one hand ; heart and intellect on the other ;
that is the altemative between which the nations are trying to
choose.
This movement has in America ripened more than elsewhere. In
many parts of the world it is still in a very immature stage, being lit-
tle better than a mere uneasiness, a dissatisfaction, a wish that there
were somewhat more worthy to believe and to do. But here, with
not a few, the period of transition is past ; the desert with its weary
wanderings, doubtings, distresses, lies behind ; the happy land of sure
faith and action stretches fair and near before, or is already in pos-
session. Let me try to indicate briefly the characteristics of this new
epoch.
I. The primary departure from the old schemes is found in this
discovery, that faith is native to man ; bom in him, not injected into
him ; spontaneous rather than artificial ; an energy which his spirit
puts forth, not a constraint which it passively suffers. This one per-
ception reverses or will reverse, the entire attitude of the world toward
the problems of religion and belief So long as religion was looked
upon as a kind of supematural chloroform, not esthetic, but anassthetic,
and designed to lock up and imprison the powers proper to man's
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The New Epoch in Belief. 197
being, so long the conception of freedom and free development in
religion was logically absurd. Considered as a sheer imposition upon
man from without, having the right of the policeman over the person
he arrests, or the right of the court over the criminal ; empowered to
handcuff him first, and afterward to bind him over to keep the peace ;
it made his plea of freedom simply ridiculous. It was, and must be
a mere piece of arrest, a putting of man under bonds ; and the attempt
of the Voltaires to sue out a writ of habeas corpus^ and restore to the
soul its liberties, was regarded, and could only be regarded as a suit
at the devil's court, an attempt to overthrow tiie kingdom of heaven
and l^alize treason.
Consistently, therefore, with its fundamental notion, the old theol-
ogy came to man with a fixed scheme of faith, and said, " You must
believe this, and just this, neither more nor less than this, under pen-
alty." It could not appeal to his reason and his heart ; for that were
to acknowledge his freedom and disown its own claim. It could not
submit itself to his judgment; for that were as if the policeman
should say to the thief, " Walk with me to the lock-up, my good sir, if
your judgment approves my invitation." It could not acknowledge a
spiritual growth in humanity, it could not see in Brahmism, Parsism,
Mohammedanism, Christianity one self-same native principle working
out, imder the common laws of man's intelligence, into various forms,
more or less perfect ; for that cannot be a growth from within, which
is by definition an imposition from without ; and that cannot devel-
ope itself under the common laws of human intelligence and natural
influence, which is defined as a subjugation of natural influence and
intelligence. It said, "You must believe thus and so," because it
must say so, or say nothing. It was arbitrary in action because it
came as arbiter, and was that or nothing at all ; at least nothing good.
Arbiter or usurper, autocrat or pretender, policeman or impostor, —
it must confess itself one of the two, and must confess itself the worse
of the two if it did not assert itself as the better.
Religion as a piece of spontaneity : religion as a piece of arrest ; —
here we get the two fimdamental and opposite forms under which this
matter is conceived of. Each of them has its inevitable logic : each
must come to a conclusion in accordance with its premise. One of
the two must be assumed ; either being assumed, consequences follow
which no skill can avert and no reluctance long delay. Assume either,
and you must read history accordingly ; and to read forwards accord-
ing to the one, is to read backwards according to the other. The
world of humanity under arrest, the world of nature a house of cor-
rection, with the Hebrew people firsts and afterwards their spiritual
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198 The RadicaL
descendants released under parole of honor, and then sworn in as
special constables, 2l passe comitatus of the Holy Ghost, — Aat is one
way of reading history. The world of humanity under the aspect of
free citizenship, and the world of nature its lawftd homestead ; each
man called upon to develope in freedom his divine resource, and to
improve in freedom his natural estate, converting it to spiritual use as
he can ; — that is another way of reading history. And accordingly
as we read one way or the other, there follows a whole economy <rf
belief, of culture, of social and individual life.
I do not here seek to argue, but only to state. As matter of feet,
we the radical believers, have made our election clearly between these
two. As matter of fact, the world is making between the two its elec-
tion ; that is, is changing its choice from one to Ae other. The new
epoch in belief is constituted by the fact that the world is relinquish-
ing the notion of faith as an arrest of natural faculty, a constraint
which the spirit of man suffers passively, and is going over to die op-
posite notion of faith as spontaneous, an energy which man's spirit
puts forth, different in ite forms, but identical in its essence.
Those who still think, or try to think, religion the policeman of the
' soul, see in this change something dreadful. Of course they do. Totheur
eyes it can appear only as an attempt at a rescue made by the friends
of the criminal. To their eyes the logic that legitimates it is but a
Judge McCune issuing a habeas corpus^ ox habeas spiritum^ to favor re-
bellion. Of course, I say. A man who looks out of the back window
to see what is in front of the house, will not see it Assuming that
the soul is not a free citizen to be furthered, but a culprit to be ar-
rested, they must, they can see in those economies which cherish its
liberties, instead of sustaining its incrimination, only irreligion,
only treason to heaven. Two opposite points of view cannot give the
same results ; and the question here is one of the points of view to be
assumed.
If God approaches the intelligence of man only by strong impres-
sions upon the senses, as the old preternaturalism avers, then he who
turns his face toward the soul, turns his back on God. If God ap-
proaches the will only as an overriding, despotic force, then he who
assumes that the divine is to be found in the highest freedom of the
will, is stiffening his neck against God. Now, we say that God ap-
proaches man, not by that which is lowest in him, the senses, but by
that which is highest, the soul : therefore that in turning the face soul-
ward we turn it Godward. And again we say that the divine mani-
fests itself in man by the spontaneity, not by the oppression of his
spirit ; by the freedom, not the enslavement of his will, by the utmost
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The New Epoch in Belief, 199
Ubttntion and empowering of his being, not by constriction of its lib-
erties and suspension of its powers.
£ach of these points of view is, and must be comparatively irreli-
gious to the other. The new epoch has chosen its master word, —
spontaneity. It does not complain, — it were puerile to complain, —
that the other sees it as irreligious, infidel. As well complain that a
shorter man than yourself does not look over your head.
But there is this difference in their regard of each other. Assume
spontaneity, and you can still see the old scheme of spiritual enslave-
ment as one of the limited forms of religion. We do not accept
Boudhism as a special form of spiritual development, and then raise
a hue and cry against Calvinism as if it were merely evil. On the
other hand, the adherent of the old notions can see in the new spirit
only absolute irceligion. The greater comprehends the less, but the
less does not comprehend the greater. The Jewish synagogue excom-
municates Spinoza ; but Spinoza does not excommunicate the syna-
gogue. The foolish old woman who saw Sir Isaac Newton, when he
was excogitating his doctrine of colors, at a window blowing soap-
bubbles, was moved with indignation, and declared it a shame that a
grown-up man should be wasting the day in such idle child's play ;
but Newton could not return her indignation, he could only smile.
With a like tolerance the new faith listens when the old vents a pious
anger against it It is in the natture of things that the old should see
the new as absolutely irreligious ; while the new sees the other as
only comparatively irreligious, and prepares to make its sepultiu^
decent, or even to speak a kindly word over its grave.
2. As a necessary result of its fundamental principle, the new
epoch prefers and favors spontaneous, rather than imitative, belief in
the individual. Imitative belief has its place. There are multitudes
of men who do their thinking rather by sympathy with some powerful
mind, than by an independant activity of intellect There are multi-
tudes of men who are moral rather by sympathy with custom, or even
by a calculating submission to it, than by an original energy of con-
science. Nevertheless, original thought and original morality are
the high privilege and duty of man. The new epoch calls upon men
to use this grand privilege, and to use it in the noblest du-ection. It
says to every man, " Relate yoiurself to eternal verities by your native
force, if you can. Indebted deeply to the past you are, as all of us
are ; but pay that debt, if you can, by making the future indebted to
you. Make history richer for those who shall follow. Instead of
idly living upon the grain which the past garnered, sow it, and raise
harvest for other times to live upon while they also sow and reap.
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200 The Radical.
Yea, let the past, like a seed, die fruitfully in your souls, that it may
come anew and more abundantly to life."
Hence it is assumed that the divine import of life is not merely
conserved by the art of the printer and book-binder, but that it is, or
should be, coming to light newly and vitally in every age. And more-
over, it is a canon of the new time that each generation, each centiuy,
is required of heaven to put in use just that light which has come to
it in particular. The divine import of life is revealed anew and ever
anew in hearts that are really alive ; man ever has his root in eternity,
his resource in God ; and the light given to each age is, with especial
emphasis, the light to be used by that age. The mythus of the man-
na has a meaning for the present day. God of old revealed hb truth
to his Hebrews ; God to-day reveals his truth to his Americans ; and
what he says especially to us, he especially means that we should at-
tend to.
Would any one ask what Gk)d has revealed to his Americans ? He
has revealed the sacredness of freedom; the divine endowment of
every man with rights which society is infidel if it do not respect and
guard ; the equality of man and woman ; the claim of every male and
female child to some education at the public charge : the prevalence
and indestructibility of order in the universe ; the divineness of na-
ture ; and underlying all, he is making known that the normal activity
of man's spirit involves his own activity, — that a sui!usion of the
spirit of the universe goes into all efiusion from the soul of humanity
— that the pulses of progress are heart-beats of eternal Life and Law.
Now, there is not one of the least of these instructions which does
not affect the whole aspect and significance of life. The least of them
brings a new and pervading element into history, and is like a change
in the hue and quality of the blood.
Consider, for example, the truth that has come to us through Coper-
nicus, Kepler, Newton, through the chosen revealers and prophets
of science. Set aside the outward uses of science, its enabling the
earth to feed a larger population and to feed them better ; think
only what it has contributed to spiritual impression. Suppose this
contribution taken away. Suppose we were this instant to lose our
knowledge th^t the earth is a ball, swinging in space, one of a troop of
worlds more numerous than the sands on the seashore, but all ar-
ranged in systems moving in harmony, instinct with perfect law ; and
that we were left to think with men a few centuries ago, that the earth
is a fiat space of uncertain extent, without fellowship in the universe,
that the stars are candles, and the sun a moderate sized ball of fire,
going so near the earth, as even Lord Bacon thought, as to bum the
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The New Epoch in Belief, 201
snow off the higher mountain tops. Sweep away from us, I say, this
moving, magnificent spectacle of universal order ; sweep away the
very conception of natural law, which conception is a new birth in the
world ; make it impossible for our souls to be touched with that reli-
gious sense of unity, which now is ours when in the falling of a peb-
ble and the sailing of a star we behold one and the same eternal force
and law ; landlock us once more within the limits of the horizon, and
let us again see in' the incidents of nature, not order and everlasting
perfection, but at best only celestial caprice ; and who will say that
we should not lose truth and spiritual impression which reveal God
to every eye, and feed and enlarge every soul ? Who will deny that
all this knowledge is part of that by which our spirits are this day ex-
panded, our hearts this day touched and awed ?
Science has its own evangel, such as it is. Not the highest surely ;
and it runs in the custom of my thought rather to limit than exagger-
ate its importance.
Again, the faith in freedom, which animates our best minds, I name
a true piece of revelation. Is it true that God requires not obedience
only, but freedom as the best part of obedience ? Is freedom indeed
a master-law of earth and heaven ? Here and hereafter are we, by
the disciplines of mortal existence and the powers of immortal life, to
deliver, deliver and ever deliver our souls ; and by exalting them into
a divine liberty shall we arrive at another and more heavenly order
of obedience, which, so far from conflicting with freedom, is its very
flower and perfection ? The faith in freedom as divine means no less.
And if it be not divine, away with it If it run counter to the spirit-
ual destiny of man, who will whisper a syllable in its behalf.^
We, the radical believers, have accepted and consecrated the idea
of freedom in no trivial spirit. \Vhither that leads we go ; and our
journeying is no piece of vagrancy : we walk in faith. And our faith
is that God supports, animates, and is revealed by the freedom and
spontaneous virtue of the spirit of humanity. We trust that hxmian
history is no petty stir on the outside of existence, but that the heart
of heaven beats in the heart of man, and that, as Paul said, the eter-
nal WORKS in man to will and to do.
The faith of the new epoch, accordingly, is following God into the
future. For it, he is not two thousand years behind, to-morrow to be
farther behind, and by each rising and setting sun yet more removed.
It doubts not but that the ideas which now stir and glow in the
bosom of humanity gather their warmth in the bosom of eternity ;
thence is their origin, thither their tendency.
Thus our present existence and daily work attain an infinite depth
2
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202 The Radical.
of meaning. The charm and fascination of the infinite leads us on ;
its immeasurable solace consoles our fatigues ; and we may still rest
upon it even in our doubts. With the age of this faith we first see
that we are true to heaven in being true to our own souls, — that in
thinking our thought and doing our work, we are co-operating with
siq)emal powers, — that in iising the light of our day, we are walking
by the light of that day on which no sun ever sets, the day without
night, — that in sailing by the magnetic needle of the soul we obey
no mere private attraction, but give heed to eternal poles and the
axis of the Universe. Oh, a faith to live by and die by, sweet, health-
ful, bracing, vivifying I How it simplifies, while it deepens life 1 No
longer compelled to ransack deserted lands, exhume buried cities,
criticise doubtful documents, sift uncertain histories, and do labor for
which centuries of learned toil were inadequate, ere we shall know
how to live this day and hour, we may even Iwe^ inwardly assured
that the heart of God goes witli the heart of man, that the meaning
of all days abides in this day, and that in every age the door of truth
and duty is a door into the eternal temple, the sanctuary of absolute
good.
3. The faith of the new time is characterized by a more exalted
and spiritual respect for man's being, a more religious sense of its
significance and sanctity. It has been considered an act of piety to
speak evil of man. Time was that no prayer was thought complete,
or right in tone, imless it were well strown with terms of contempt
toward the being of man. The whole rhetoric of reprobation and
reproach was lavished on his head. That he is " a worm,** " a worm
of the dust," was an information vouchsafed to heaven in orisons in*
numerable. Preachers and devotees vied with each other in invent-
ing terms wherewith to revile him. Dr. South, that great fish-woman
of the pulpit, said, that " the heart of a new-bom babe is a nest of
snakes hid in a dung-heap."
Now, I should no more be at pains to say that the new faith for-
bears to sully its worship with this pious billingsgate, than I should
to assert that my best friend is not a shoplifter. Not to be guilty of
these grossnesses is no virtue ; it is only freedom from a vice. But
It is 2i virtue of the time that there has arisen in it a positive, pervad-
ing, daring reverence for the being of man ; one which is destined to
reform the politics, and write anew the creeds of mankind. It b in-
deed among the most radical and productive sentiments of modem
time. Already it has borne fmit, and more fruit it is yet to bear, in
the rescue of oppressed races, in new hopes for buried continents, in
the liberalization of institutions^ in a higher value set upon human
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The New Epoch in Belief. 203
life. It compels even those who chiefly impugn its sway. Carlyle, so
bitterly impressed with the foolishness of multitudes, cannot refuse
to these very multitudes his commanding interest ; writing a history
of the French' Revolution, he gives historical literature a new key-
note for all succeeding time, by fixing his main regards, not upon
governments, but upon men, not upon dead institutions, but upon the
living nation. Slavery has found in this sentiment its one uncon-
querable opponent The sense of slavery as a profanation of man's
being, was that inspiration which has swelled in noble hearts, and
prophesied by persuasive tongues, against it : this it was which added
the eloquence of religion to the eloquence of Phillips; this which
lent itself as a grand organ accompaniment to the strong believing sim-
plicity of Garrison ; and it was the reverberation of their words in the
nation's heart, the answering echo of this sentiment there, which made
even its rage tremulous and timorous before them. It was this, too,
which frenzied the South, and compelled it to destroy its own evil
hopes by the pre-eminent blunder of civil war ; the rebels took arms in
their hands, not less to slay an intrusive faith in their own hearts
than to pierce the heart of Northern courage.
This fruitful sentiment pervades the time, I say ; it is in the air ;
we breathe it with every respiration ; it is a salt upon the food we eat,
and a sweetness in the water we drink. Unacknowledged in the for-
mal instructions of theological schools, held in susi5icion on Sundays,
blasphemed against by the phraseolpgy of traditional worship, it nev-
ertheless penetrates the theologian, finds access to pulpit and pew,
peeps out through the borrowed phrase of prayer : it cannot be sup-
pressed, it cannot be excluded, it will have place, and it will have its
way. To a large extent it is indeed crude and impure, a religion, but
pagan, sometimes scarcely less pagan than that which it supercedes.
Yet crude or clear, derived or confessed, it is a soul of sovereignity,
a root of power, an atmosphere of influence in the modern world ; the
faith the world really lives by to-day is better expressed by Bums's
" A man 's a man for a' that," than by all the catechisms, ecclesiastic
confessions, and copy-beliefs of Europe and America. It is in
Dickens and Thackeray, it is in Channing and Chalmers ; every-
where man, everywhere the native interests of man are set up against
the mechanisms of class and creed. Comte confesses it against his
own theory that man is but a fragment in Nature : churches confess
it against their own dogma, that man is but a combination of snake
and dung-heap ; Russia utters it by the voice of her autocrat, and
France forces the confession of it from the lips of Louis Napoleon.
And now, at length, this unacknowledged religion of the time is
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204 The Radical.
coming to be acknowledged, and to take its place in the forefront of
conscious belief. This it is, more than all else, which makes the new
epoch. We are learning why man's being has this sanctity. That
vital intimacy, that living unison of divine and himian, Vrhich has been
indicated is the old truth which has newly come to recognition ; and
no creed will henceforth respond to the felt and moving credence of
men, wherein this does not appear as the second grand confession
which faith has to make. First, God is; secondly, God is vitally im-
plicated in man^s being. Hence the universality and perpetuity of rev- .
elation ; hence that awfiil undertone of meaning in all himian history ;
hence the blasphemy that there is in baseness : hence the infinite,
absolute worth of a human soul. It is by reason of this infinite depth
of root that the tree of life can tower and spread forever ; the illimi-
table stretch of immortality is above, because the illimitable resource
of God's being is beneath. False to this life man may be, but so far
he is not man : false to the eternal soul, he is by the same act, and
to the same degree, false to his own. It is only when the fire of eter-
nity gives a spark from its bosom, and then breathes to fan it across
the field of time, that the fiame is lighted which we name a human
soul. True to itself, the soul is true to God ; burning purely, it re-
veals God ; burying and quenching itself in the sloughs of nature, it
denies God. Baseness is blasphemy; nobility is revelation; the
Pharisee has crucified the Christ in his own heart, ere he crucified it
in the person of Jesus. Yea, an^ to this day that tragedy is repeat^
whenever any man b false to his soul : while to this day, the Christ
rises from his sepulchre whenever a heart that was false to itself be-
gins to be true, whenever through the cerements of sordid life the
real life breaks forth, and flames again toward heaven, at once human
and divine.
THE LITTLE SONG.
FROM UHLAND.
** What wakens me from slumber, " Naught do I hear, my darling,
What music sounds so sweet ? And nothing do I see, ■
O mother, see, who cometh, And no one comes a-singing
My midnight hours to greet" A little song to thee."
" It is no earthly niusic
That makes my heart so light ;
The angels' songs, — they call me,
O mother dear, good night"
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GROTTA-SAVNGR : THE QUERN-SONG.*
FROM THE ELDER EDDA.
Menia.
Let us to Frothi
Treasures turn —
Happiness out of
The gladdening Quern,
Let him reap riches
And sleep on down !
Let him awaken
To see this ground 1
Here there shall no one
Another hurt,
Plotting to evil,
Nor mischief work.
Nor shall the sword-blade
Strike — though one found
His brother's murderer
Lying fast bound
Fmia and Menia.
But with his first word Than the brief silence
Us he did greet The cuckoo doth claim —
" Ye from your labor No longer than whilst I
No longer shall sleep Am singing one strain I "
Fmia,
Frothi, thou wast not
Wonderously wise,
AVhen thralls thou boughtest
To please thine eyes.
Thou boughtest for seeming,
And strength in task ;
But of our ancestry
Nothing didst ask !
* In ancient Denmark — during the reign of Frothi, a direct descendant
of Odin — there was a pair of Millstones of such size that no one could be
found in the kingdom able to turn them. And this Quern (which was named
Grotti), possessed such virtue that it would grind out whatever the grinder
wished. It chanced that Frothi, when on a visit to a certain king of Swe-
den, bought two female slaves of great size and strength, named Fenia and
Menia. The king brought the two slaves to the Quern-stones and ordered
them to grind out for him riches, peace, prosperity, etc. ; and so avaricious
was he that he allowed them rest from their heavy labor no longer than
while he could sing one strain, or while the cuckoo was silent The two
maidens sung whilst they ground, and Frothi's people slept ; and, before
they ended their lay, they ground out a hostile army against Frothi ; for a
sea-king landed there the same night, slew Frothi, and took great spoiL
So ended Frothi's peace.
Such is the story of this ancient and very remarkable Icelandic poem.
The Grotta-Savngr is as perfect in its development as a tragedy of iCcshy-
lus ; and while artistic in construction — differing in this respect from
much of the poetry that has come down to us from that rude but intensely
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2o6 The Radical.
Afmia.
Hardy was Hunguir — Ithi and Amrr —
Hardy his sire ; Our kin were the twain —
Yet was Thiassi The mountain-bom ettins ;
More stalwart and dire. Of these we came.
Fenia.
Deep in its dark dell Nor the mountain-ettin
It had not been sought — Maidens the stone
Not from its earth-bed Thus have turned
The Quem-ston^ brought— Had their race been known.
Menia,
Playful, weird women, At the house of the giants,
We, winters nine, The Quern full swift
Were reared to strength We whirled, till the earth-rocks
In the deep earth-mine. Quaked therewith,
Powerful maidens, The stone a-rumbling
AVe wrought in our place — With steady stroke
Moving the mountain We kept, till they heard it —
From off its base. The underground folk !
Fmia,
But, since, in Sweden Shields have we riven.
We bears have fought : And red battle wrought
imaginative people — it has a weird fascination about it peculiar to the
poetry of the Northmen.
The two women, whom Frothi had unwittingly bought for ordinary
slaves, are discovered to belong to a race of mountain giants. At first they
propose to grind out for him those intangible things he had ordered ; but
recurring to his harsh treatment of them, and remembering their former wild
freedom, they rehearse the story of their ancestry and their achievements in
batde, as they turn the ponderous Quern ; whilst under the excitement of
the song, their anger kindles more and more against Frothi. The accumu-
lated wraA of this Greek Chorus swells constantly more dire, until at last,
the ettin-maidens grind out of the magical mill-stones a tragical &te to
Frothi.
As in almost every people's mythological stories, there is a wide applica-
tion to this old Scandinavian legend. With us, that system which appeared
to possess such miraculous power of grinding out unlimited measures of
wealth, prosperity, etc. — alas, whilst we slept under the fetal delusion, and
trusted that our application of unrequited labor had somehow blinded the
sure sight of the gods, this miU-stone of Fate which we had set agoing,
ground out a hostile army in our midst which laid waste the land.
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Grotta-Savngr : The Quern Song. 207
In direst conflict
The heroes thick fell ;
And we, in the wide land
Were known full well
We scored with spears
Where the war-cry sounds ;
Wiping our weapons
AVith blood from wounds.
Now are we toiling
At Frothi's halls ;
Here we are friendless
And held as thralls.
Bitter beneath us
The Earth doth turn ;
And drive we in anguish
An enemy's Quern.
Swifdy the grinding
Hath sped with my hand,
Now my arms shall rest,
And the stone shall stand.
Menia,
Hands may rest not, Men shall forge them
Nor cease the round, Swords of might ;
Until for Frothi Blood-oozing weapons
Enough hath been ground. For deadly fight
Awake thou, Frothi !
From slumber long ;
If thou wouldst list
Our prophetic song.
I see a fire burning
Eastward the town ;
The war-heralds waken ;
The light glares round.
Fmia*
O Frothi, no more shalt
Thou hold this throne ;
Nor red rings gleaming ;
Nor palace of stone 1
Let us drive, maiden,
Quicker the Quern \
Or we shall unarmed
In the battle biu-n.
Mmia,
My father's daughter The deaths of many —
More furious far Ah ! Wide flies apart
Grinds now, as approaching. The bolt of the Quern-eye ! •
She sees from afar Yet let us grind sharp.
With strength the women
Ground as they stood ; —
Ah! the wild maids
AVere in ettin-mood.
The spindle spun wide ;
The hopper off flew ;
And the great nether-millstone
Burst heavy in two ;
But the mountain maidens
Their song prsuue : —
" Frothi, now have we
Thy grist ground good ;
Our grinding is ended —
Full long have we stood I "
M. B. B.
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DANGERS OF OUR POLITICAL MACHINERY.
BY JOHN WEISS.
YOU cannot improvise a country by bringing together a number of
persons. They must wait till something calls out their manhood
and fraternity, till truths become self-conscious within them, and
every drop of blood goes to nourish moral resolution, before they have a
unity of life.
There is now an opportunity to show our preference of truth to politics,
and of the broad popular conscience to the manoeuvres of party. We must
study how to keep the country up to its enthusiasm for real American ideas,
and to protect them against the vices which the old parties used to practise.
Unless we do this, the reconstruction of the labor and society of the South,
though it may be perfect in phrase, will be badly made, with lingering anxi-
eties and perils of intrigue at every turn. We shall always have a party at
the North and South to remember the old political tradition and to recur
to shifts which made it so often successful We are now in a situation to
renounce these habits in favor of some form of political action which may
more directly and purely embody the true American ideas. We have pre-
vailed by a great majority over disaffection, and we have destroyed the mil-
itary power of treason. Slavery is in our control, and the whole North is
flushed with noble feeling ; but we have not reformed the anti-republican-
ism of our political machinery. It hampers us : it is a danger to be consid-
ered beside a slaveholding temper ; under certain contingencies I can
credit that it might restore the life of slavery. We are thankful to-day for
what the country gives us ; blessings so solid should increase our care that
they may be preserved.
These political dangers to which I allude have four sources : ist, Na-
tional and Party Conventions : 2d, the Electoral College : 3d, fraudulent
voting : 4th, forced and imperfect Naturalization. All these are hostile to
the American Idea, which seeks to express itself politically through the
direct, undelegated, unforged and unmixed action of the American people.
Let me say something under each of the above heads.
1st National and Party Conventions for the nomination of President and
Vice President A Congressional Caucus used to undertake this business ;
the last meeting of this kind was held in 1824 : and since that time Nation-
al Conventions have provided the people with their candidates. The
objectionable element in a National Convention, irrespective of the party
which may assemble, is, that the people has not delegated power to it, and
is not represented by it It is oligarchical in principle and effect A few
local politicians select delegates, who assemble, not to be instrumental in
giving form and expression to the popular desire, but to control it ; to pre-
sent it with the candidate who is regarded by a majority of the delegates as
most available. How do these delegates arrive at an opinion on this head ?
By not consulting a single popular element, but by consulting cliques, in
the caucus, the hotel, and the lobby, after manipulation by partizan agents,
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Dangers of our Political Machinery. 209
oflficers of government or opposition members of Congress. The Constitu-
tion of the United States forbids members of Congress and all persons
holding office under the Federal Government from being chosen members
of the Electoral College : this was to diminish as far as possible the chances
for official and pardzan influence. But these very men, who cannot be
Electors, exercise more than an Electoral power and privilege, by attending
National Conventions and mingling with their business. Can anything be
more corrupt ? The result is that the people receive the dictation of a few
interested men, who desire to acquire power or to retain it ; frequently a
name entirely unexpected by the country receives the ballot which gives a
great party its candidate, who then vote blindly as a party and not as sover-
eign people. What impure motives, what depraved advantages over personal
weakness, what appeals to interest, prejudice, sectional pride, what use of
wine, of money, of venal promises, make the air of a National Convention
unfit to breathe ! But it is quite bad enough that availability is consulted
instead of the popular tendencies — that an elegible man is mistaken for a
man who ought to be elected, and for whom the instinct of the people would
fain vote. The people is obliged, at the arbitrary call of a Convention, to
trim its instincts to its candidate. It goes into training under the lead of
local politicians, so as to be in condition to casta solid vote, not for the man
of their choice, but for the man who happens to come in at the close of a
heated balloting. Sometimes two sets of delegates appear, representing
not any real popular diversity of feeling, but only local feuds and intrigues.
Sometimes half a dozen resolutions wrangle in the committee-room for a
place in a platform, not built by a people to sustain its imposing presence
before the country, but by stump orators and veteran campaigners to push
their candidate through the canvass. What intrigues, what miserable con-
cessions, what flatulency and moral indigestion. A sweet breath from the
prairie and the ccra-field never strays so far. And home go these asphyx-
iating bags of wind, tp be pressed to the popular lips from numerous stands,
till the brain reels with availability. What an utter want of faith in the ca-
pacity of the people that is so flattered, and bespattered with flne phrases :
as if it had no healthy instincts, and could not, if let alone, run together
naturally into great masses of feeling, and great preferences for substantial
men. Who can hesitate between the instinct of the people at large, and
the instincts which roar and growl in the pen of a National Convention ?
The popular heart makes its selections of men for any purpose, according
to the natural currents which travel^ like magnetism, through the air,
through the earth and through all bodies. A National Convention is a
Leyden Jar which sultrily accumulates, till the unexpected result leaps out
and substitutes a spasm for the popular strength. We must trust Nature,
and retiu-n to her. Our best things in Peace and War are done when we
confide in the great elements which find their natural points of congression
in human hearts. No machinery nor artificial heat can be a substitute for
Nature. The people honors its best generals ; it could tell very soon, with-
out the help of a Caucus, the diflerence between McClellan and Butler and
Sheridan. It does not need to have a Convention of delegates inform it
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2IO The Radical.
who are its greatest orators, its most practical formers and merchants, its
safest engineers ; slowly but surely it piles up a decision upon these points
which ought to be instructive to the subtle but shallow wire-pullers of a
party. If it were a question of Art, of Philosophy and Metaphysics, of
Marine Insurance, of literary nicety, of scientific truth, I grant that the peo-
ple is not the right cotnmission to sit upon these things, and its decision
would carry no infallibility. But it could rear a President who knew where
the joints of slavery lie, and what is the cement of Liberty. It has some-
times been deceived, and may be deceived again if great pains are taken by
telf-seeking demagogues ; but if let alone, you will find that, *' instinct is a
great matter.'' See what it came to in the re-election of Abraham Lin-
coln, which was no more a result of the Baltimore than it was of the Chicago
Convention. Nay, not so much — for when the former could not lead, the
latter could alarm. If no Convention had ever sat at Baltimore, the
people would have blossomed into Abraham Lincoln by the same overpow-
ering vote. There was a period of six weeks in the summer preceding,
when that Convention was prostrate and powerless beneath events. Did
the Convention rally ? No, the people rallied ; and to elect a man who
has represented them more nearly than any President since Washington.
And yet the politicians say that the people could not elect a man of the
people. A popular majority of 420,000 for a distinctive people's man was
the answer. Never go to the people to settle canons of Music, Art and
Criticism — to put men at the head of Orchestras, Museums or Finance ;
never ask them questions that involve a special culture or a curious knowl-
edge — bid them keep their hands oflf Philosophy. But if you want a coun-
try for such things to thrive in and become illustrious, give to all of them,
as God gave the Mariposa Cedars, strong and deep-holding ground, filled
with the constituents of symmetry and power.
If the President and Vice President of the United States be elected by
an immediate vote of the people, the Electoral College will become super-
fluous. It is already an aristocratic feature of our Government, cumbrous
in its working, and liable to be abused. We know that in 1864, 25,000
votes properly distributed through half a dozen states, would have defeated
the manifest will of the people, by throwing the electoral vote of those
states for the man who was so pointedly rejected. And if fi^ud could have
accomplished this, it would have been done. What a chance is here for
cabal and corruption. And here is another highly instructive calculation,
which I find in a number of the New York Independent, published before
the last Presidential election. Speaking of the Electoral College, that
paper says ;
'^Let us see how this machinery works. Were the electors equal in
number only to the members of the House of Representatives, the case
would not be so bad ; were they thus apportioned and elected as Members
of' Congress are, singly, there would be a vast improvement But we add
for each state two senatorial or electors at large, thus directly invading the
representative system, and giving the smallest states the greatest propor-
tion of power. For instance: in i860, there were fifteen states — Oregon,
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Dangers of our Political Machinery. 211
Florida, Delaware, Kansas, Rhode Island, Minnesota, South Carolina,
Vermont, Arkansas, New Hampshire, Mississippi, Louisiana, California,
Texas, and Connecticut — having a white population of 3,872,761, only
40,000 more than the single state of New York. These fifteen states were
entitled to forty-two members of tiie House of Representatives, while New
York had but 31— ^ the balance being made up by slave representation.
This vast dispr(^>ortion is bad enough, one woidd naturally say ; but look
at the electoral power. The 15 states named would cast 42 votes for their
representatives and 30 for their senators, making 72 votes, or nearly one-
third of the whole number in the country, while New York, witii nearly as
much population, must be content with 33 votes. If anything could be
more absurdly anti-democratic, it would be the contingency (which might
easily, happen) in which these fifteen states should be carried by small
majorities, or even pluralities, while tiie state of New York might vote solid
the other way. For instance : the fifteen states respectively choose Mc^
Clellan electors by, say 100 majority in each state, on an aggregate vote of
700,000 ; that would give McClellan 351,500 votes, to 347,500 for Lincoln.
Now suppose Linc(^ gets all the votes of New York — say 700,000 ; he
would have in the 16 states 1,047,500 votes to 351,500 for McQellan, a
Union majority of 696,000. But in the Electoral College Lincoln gets but
33 votes, while McClellan gets 72 — exactly reversing the decision of the
people. And this is effected by allowing senatorial electors mainly, and in
part by choosing them in lumps rather than on a general ticket''
If the people has discernment enough to vote for electors, does it lack
discernment to vote for President ? Would there be a greater danger of
tumult and disorder in voting directly for President, than directly for Presi-
dential electors ? If we ever ran the risk of great disorders, it was during
the election of last year ; but what a striking proof of self-control the peo-
ple gave in every town and village ; only in two strongly disaffected dis*
tricts was there a need to show the ungloved hand of power. Even in ex-
traordinary times, then, it is plain that the people, having sense enough to
prefer a candidate, has sense enough to vote for him deliberately, yes, sol-
emnly. The gravity of an Electoral College is stage-play compared with
the religious attitude of this nation as it deposited its will at the polls, all
day long without a cry, nor a hand uplifted in menace, but frequently with
tears, and doubtless with silent prayers before every voting box.
But what if out of three or more candidates, the people directly voting,
make no choice ? Then let it directly vote again. In such a case, after
the first vote the popular consideration would flow more freely. Voting
two or three times in this w^y would be better than having the choice of
President, go as it has already twice gone, into the House of Representa-
tives, where the popular will has to take the chance of being tinkered by
the politicians. The House, in such an event, becomes no better than a
National Convention. See, too, how undemocratic the provision is ; this is
well put in the following statements of the New York Independent :
" Should the election devolve upon the House of Representatives, each
state is to have but one vote (to be decided among its members), and a
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212 The Radical.
majority of such votes or states shall elect For example : In i860, six
states — New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, and Massachu-
setts — contained 13,000,000, or half the white population of the Union, and
were entitled to 108 representatives and 120 electoral votes. There were
six other states — Oregon, Florida, Delaware, Kansas, Rhode Island, and
Minnesota — having 672,000 white people, with 8 representatives in Con-
gress and 20 electoral votes. Yet these petty states, in a vote for Presi-
dent of the United States in the House of Representatives, have exactly the
same voice as the six great states above named. The 67 1,000 people scattered
here and there in the western wilderness vote down thirteen millions of
other people ; and, to carry out the illustration on this line, we may select
17 states, having but 53 representatives and but 87 votes in the Electoral Col-
lege, with less than 5,000,000 of white population, that would elect a ^'resi-
dent in spite of the fifteen other states, having, in i860, 188 members in
Congress, 218 electoral votes, and 21,000,000 of free white population."
Let me add, that in case of a direct popular vote, a Vice President would
also be chosen upon substantial merits : the people would select him, with
the same conscientious care which might go to find a President, to be his
fit successor in case of death or resignation : not a third-rate man, balloted
for in Convention out of some supposed sectional necessity, to be the presi-
ding officer of the Senate, but a man of mark and capacity, in complete affinity
with the President, and not, if the latter dies, to be styled " His Accidency." *
The danger of fraudulent voting is increased by the interposition of State
Electors between the people and their choice. Forged names of soldiers
judiciously distributed in doubtful districts, with the " marrow-fat ballot "
liberally thrown, and Patrick O'Bogus voting 18 separate times for 18 false
names, with a rich brogue to them, already entered for him upon the Ward
Register, might shift the 36 electoral votes of New York fi-om one side to
the other, and convert the tool of a Action into the President of a people.
Why should great popular majorities lie at the merc> of State lines in this
way ? How many local elections have been already decided by the appear-
ance of O'Bogus in 18 characters or more for that occasion only ! How
closely calctilated were these manoeuvers at the election of last year : and
their failure is only due to the unprecedented uprising of the people. 1 do *
not know what local precautions may in the fiittu-e be invented [to prevent
illegal voting : but it is certain that no remedy will be complete that does
not abolish all bodies of men that now stand between the people and the
object of its wilL The mass, directly voting, may counterbalance the frauds
which local precautions will never thoroughly anticipate.
Forced naturalization furnishes a great number of illegal votes : but imper-
fect naturalization that is, a kind that conforms to existing laws but does not
really make a man competent to vote, is equally dangerous. It is plain that
♦ On the operation of the machinery of National Conventions and Electoral Col-
leges, see " Benton*s Thirty Years in the U. S. Senate : " 1 : 37, 44, 78 ; II : 204,
59 1 » 625. The Electoral College has been sometimes favorable to true republican
ideas ; but not from any element of permanent security to them.
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Dangers of our Political Machinery. 213
reform is needed here. The Native American movement which fell into
the hands of the Know Nothing party, whose schemes were secretly con-
ducted in the spirit of Jesuitism itself, was righteously condemned and came
to nought There was more bigotry than patriotism, more personal dislike
for foreigners than regard for American interests, in its leading men.
They represented the narrow and vulgar side of the common people. No
party in America can prosper that appeals to theological prejudices : no
party can live that merely hates the foreigners. The whole of America
was foreign two hundred and fifty years ago — all religions and all races
have been imported here for the express designs of liberty. The New Eng-
lander is very absurd with his stiff and puritanic dislike for people whose
vocal peculiarities differ from his own. He really seems to think it is dis-
graceful for a man to be a German, an Irishman, a Frenchman or a Jew.
He seems to be suspicious of the Providence which made them. This is
the old English arrogance which the Atlantic has not washed out of the
blood. No party can ever retain the sympathy of the people with its cry of
"America for Americans," unless it understands that America makes
Americans of all races, as her climate modifies the plants and the persons
of the Old World.
But how shall America make Americans? That is a question fit for a
patriot to ask. And in some respects the answer must find fault with
present laws and regulations. All religions and all races must be American-
ized by coming here, whether or not they intended it : not by jealousy,
however, and proscription, nor by enactments which are inspired by timid-
ity and exceed the salutary limit These things will fail, and cover the
doers with merited contempt Religion, manners, and intelligence, must
silently improve by contact with all the habits of freedom : that influence
cannot be hastened, but it can be retarded by injudicious zeal. Still it is
useless to pretend that anything is native to America before it has become
acclimated : let it wait, but in the meantime let it not be forced into prema-
ture action. Here we must take a decided stand, for we are the stewards
of the rights which America offers to mankind. We shall not let ignorance,
fraud and passion, endanger one of them, and make them less worthy to be
given to the poor and miserable of the earth. Whoever seeks sanctuary
here must go through a training before he undertakes to minister at the
altar. We ought not to suffer our own native-born stupidity and passion
to throw a reckless vote. All people are not out of their minority at twenty-
one. Suffrage and naturalization must be brought into a closer correspon-
dence with the facts. The 8th Section of the ist Article of the Constitu-
tion defines the powers which clothe Congress : the 4th Clause declares
that Congress shall have power to establish a uniform rule of naturalization.
In conformity with this, an Act of Congress in 1802, fixed a foreigner's term
of residence, preliminary to naturalization, at five years : he must also de-
clare his intention to be naturalized two years before this certificate is made
out, and he must be resident within the state or territory where this takes
place at least one year : and his own oath is not admitted to prove residence.
Now if all these conditions were faithfully observed in the cities where emi-
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214 The Radical.
grants chiefly congregate, they would poorly prepare them to exercise the
function of voting. They are not carried out — they are shamefully disre-
garded. Inadequate as they are to make a man an American citizen, they
are insufficient to protect the ballot-box from fraud. It is our duty to de-
mand from Congress a more stringent act, embracing certain provisions,
which, if they are not carried out must certainly expose the fraud. I would
have, for instance, a provision that no man, native or foreign-bom should
throw a vote xmless he can read and write intelligently, the reading and the
writing to be tested before a competent authority in the case of every for-
eigner, and by the grammer school register in the case of every native : if
no evidence exists that a native has received the benefit of common schools,
he must, whether white or black, submit to the test before the competent
authority. And in order to prevent all schemes of naturalization, by new
devices of fraud, for the sudden exigencies of party, I would suspend for a
man who has been properly naturalized, for one year thereafter, his voting
privilege. At present, the children of persons duly naturalized, being
under twenty-one years of age at the time when their parents were admitted
to citizenship, are, if dwelling in the United States, to be deemed citizens.
This also is a bad provision, liable to abuse : for these children, perhaps,
have been in the country only five years, with neglected and insufficient
schooling. It is doubtful if five years is a sufficiently long probation for the
father ; but no member of such a family ought to vote till he can read and
write intelligently.*
We have talked loosely about suffiage as if it were a natural right It is
not so ; it depends upon acquisition, as much as property, knowledge,
influence and fame. The right to own one's body and soul, to labor with
the hand and brain for the market wages, to exercise faith, conscience,
personal religion, to receive personal consideration, to pursue unchallenged
personal improvement, — these are natural rights. But the right of suffrage
is political. A foreigner has a natural right to have an opportunity to ac-
quire and deserve this political right : but a country can withhold it from
him till he has grown up to it. His natural rights in his new country will
assist this growth. Abroad, he never would acquire such political conr
sideration : here he must be content to gain it in the country's own meth-
od, as he gains her food, her shelter, her refinement
The phrase *' universal suffirage " may be said to indicate the extension of
the right of voting to all races and colors. But it is frequently us^d to in-
clude also the idea that universal suffrage should be unconditional, that the
immediate privilege of voting should invest all races and colors. When it
* The only excellent thing that can be credited to the Know Nothing Party in
Massachusetts is the legislative action which secured a reading and writing test for
the voter. But the friends of that measure entirely neutralised its benefits by for-
getting to provide the means of enforcing it It becomes immediately obsolete.
Unless there is some way by which a man can be challengeable on the day of vot-
ing, and some safe expedient for applying the test of intelligence, it is useless to
frame statutes relative to suffrage.
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Dangers of our Political Machinery. 115
is used with this understanding, it is said that universal suffi-age is itself the
best preparation of the ignorant and undeveloped for this function of a free-
man, and that the attempt to prepare men for voting by education, or to ex-
clude them until they have arrived at some condition of intelligence, is like
teaching people to swim by keeping them out of the water. Here is the
substitute of a figure for an argument It presumes that the act of voting
upon public questions is the element that instructs men concerning those
questions. This converts the ballot into a fetish, and invests it with some
magical quality. There is nothing instructive in the act of voting. It is
only going to a town-ball and throwing a bit of paper in a box. The Irish-
men who are drummed up at elections, and transported at so much a head
to the polls, perform this action and depart as sagacious as they came.
They will throw another bit of paper on the other political side for the
same premium. And all the wrangling upon the steps of the hall lets no
perspicuity through their dense ignorance of republicanism. Perhaps they
can no more read the votes they throw than the African can read the Ara-
bic charm enclosed within his gree-gree^ or amulet Instinct is a great mat-
ter when its actions result from the people's common sense, nourished, as
it is, by all the American sources of intelligence. This kind of common
sense lifts suffrage from a mere act of voting to a deliberate recording of
personal opinion, and invests it with dignity, and makes it truly a privilege.
It is the kind of privilege that we ought to be eager to extend impartially to
every race and color. The moment voting becomes unconditional it ceases
to be a privilege. The automatic acts of a machine will never convert it
into a citizen : and we might say that as a man cannot swim without water^
so his voting action must be through a medium of intelligence.
In a period of renovation we ought not to take our precedents from our
defects. The popularity of an indiscriminate voting is the worst argument
for its perpetuity in the States which now practise it, and for its extension
over other States.
Let us be stringent that we may be just : the Republic deserves the cau-
tion of her children. Now that the war has closed, a fresh emigration,
stimulated by the prospect of land, wages, labor and personal dignity, will
set in. The German will want to own his little patch of soil : the Irish-
man, less provident, will be seeking opportunities to earn his daily bread.
Both of them must wait till the name Democracy cannot bribe or cheat
them to vote against America.
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SENTENCES OF JOUBERT. *
BY J. B. MARVIiN,
The mind has more thought than memory can retain : it forms more
judgments than it knows how to allege motives for ; it beholds more laws
than it can reach ; and it knows more of truth than it can explain.
God is in the conscience, but not in our gropings ; when we reason we go
alone.
To do little things with the highest motives, and to see in the least
. objects the grandest relations, is the best means for perfecting one's self in
wisdom.
Clear ideas are useful to the talker j but it is almost alwa)rs by some un-
defined ideas, that the soul is served. It is these which direct the life.
Is there anything better than the judgment ? Yes : the gift of right, the
eye of the spirit, the instinct of penetration, the prompt decernment ; finally,
the natural sagacity for discerning all that is spiritual.
There is a sense in the soul which loves the right, as there is in the
body an appetite which loves pleasure.
No one is wise who is not religious.
Religion is to the heart what poetry is to the imagination, and what a
beautiful metaphysic is to the spirit It exercises the whole compass of the
sensibility.
Those who hope know most of providence, and they have a more trust-
worthy and decided sentiment, than they who fear.
Devotion embellishes the soul ; especially the souls of the young.
I HAVE an ill opinion of the lion, since I have. learned that his step is
oblique^
» I LOVE more those who render vice amiable, than those who degrade
virtue.
Religion is the poetr)^ of the heart.
Religion is to one his literature and his science ; to another, it is his
delight and his duty.
The austere sects are at first most revereht ; but tolerant sects have
always had most durability.
* Joseph JouBERT,'bom in Montignac, France, was one of the most beautiful
spirits, and noblest thinkers of the last century. He was the pupil of Diderot and
D'Alembert, and the intimate friend of Chateaubriand and Fontanes. Matthew
Arnold gives a pleasant study of his character in his recent Essays. His works,
consisting ol Pensees EssaUs^ Max'unes et LiUr€s^ in two volumes, have not yet
been translated.
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Sentences of Joubert. 217
I RESEMBLB in many things the butterfly — Hke him I love the light ; like
him I burn my wings at it ; like him I need, in order to use my wings, that
there shall be beauty around me in society, and that my spirit shall feel it-
self environed, and as it were, penetrated by a delicious atmosphere, that of
indulgence ; I need to have friendly aspects shining around me.
God is bom of God, as the image is produced by the object in the mirror.
It is proper to regret, but it is wrong to laugh at, the religion of others.
Concealed perfumes and secret loves betray themselves.
God is God : the world a place : matter is an appearance : the body is
the mould of the soul : life is a commencement
Truth consists in conceiving or imagining persons and things as God
sees them.
The spirit is a fire of which thought is the flame. Like the flame it tends
naturally to rise.
Religion prohibits all weakness, and religious weaknesses.
Virtue must be sought at any price and with earnestness ; and pros-
perity modestly and with recognition. To ask is to receive, when we ask
for real blessings.
If it were necessary to choose, I should prefer the mildness which
allowed men time to reform, than the severity which rendered them worse,
or the haste which would not wait for repentance.
Instead of complaining because the rose has thorns, I felicitate myself
because the thorn is surrounded by roses.
When my friends are one-eyed, I look at their profiles.
Men are accountable for their actions ; but I shall have to render account
for my thoughts. They are not only the foundations of my work, but of my
life.
The reason can warn us of that which should be avoided ; the heart only
tells us what should be done.
To see the world, is to judge the judges.
One is spared from being a tool in society when he is a model there.
How many things one sajrs in good feith in conversation, upon a subject
which he would not have thought of, had he limited himself to investigating
it without speaking of it ! The mind warms itself, and its heat produces
that which it would not have produced by its light Conversation is a
source of errors, but also of some truths. Conversation has wings ; it bears
one where he would not have gone.
One should pride himself upon being reasonable, but not upon having a
reason ; he should pride himself upon sincerity, though not upon infedlibility.
How can one enter a mind which is full of itself.
3
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JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE ON AUTHORITY.
To THE Editor of the Radical :
My Dear Sir : — The criticisms of Dr. Clarke in die Radical for De-
cember, on my Discourse entitled " Bond or Free," seem to betray a very
careless or at best superficial reading, not only of its statements, but of the
general subject Allow me to make such use of them as may help to a
better understanding.
My critic objects to regarding Outward Authority and Inward Freedom
as mutually exclusive, and the question between them as the great religious
question dF the Ages. Defining faith in Authority as merely ** a receptive
and deferential attitude," essentially similar to that of a truth-seeker to-
wards Comte or Herbert Spencer, and observing that every one has teach-
ers to whom he defers in this way to a greater or less extent, he is right in
pronouncing the whole question between this Authority and Freedom, to
be merely one of 'more and less.' But what then? .1 may leave Dr.
Clarke to settle with the Evangelical world whether this is a fair statement
of its £adth in the Divine Authority of its Christ I am concerned only to
discover what possible bearing the argument can have against a Discourse,
in which Authority and Freedom are considered as opposite principUs,
It is of course possible for an unreflecting person to be ino^ble of per-
ceiving principles at all ; but surely no thinker needs to be told that oppo-
site principles are and must be mutually exclusive, whether in matters
political or theological.
The question in ' Bond or Free ' concerned the structure of human
nature^ consklcred in relation to certain well known and confessedly antag-
onistic starting points of belief It was, as I distinctly defined it, ^whether
we are so made that we must have supernatural or infallible teachers, or
whether we are so made that we cannot have them ; " whether|SUch teachers
catt or cannot come in from without to supplant by their authority die limi-
tations of the natural faculties and the light of individual reason. This is
neither * a mere question of more or less,' nor * mostly a question of words.'
It is no subject for sliding scales or compromises, but demands a categor-
ical Yes or No. And it becomes every one to make distinct answer, and
so far as his public influence goes, to present a consistent attitude thereon.
' Must not every one,' asks Dr. Clarke, * from the Roman Catholic to the
extremest Radical, ultimately judge by his own reason ? ' Unquestionably :
and here in order to refute me, he puts his finger just where I would have
it, on the very fact to which I was pointing, and which proves what I af-
firmed. Here Authority and Freedom are taken, in accordance with my
definition, 2tA found to differ not <u more or less^ but as mutually exclusive*
The one is according to human nature, the other is against it Why, with
this Law of Mind upon his lips, he should object to a Discourse which was
but another form of stating it, is to me inexplicable, except upon the si^>-
position that he £uled to comprehend both the one and the other.
And this is obviously the bucx. For his inference from this irrefragable
law of miiul is that the whole ^uostion of Aiididrity, as between the radical
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James Freeman Clarke on Authority. 219
and the orthodox believer, is merely * verbal, not rational,* and does not
deserve to be discussed at all I
I must request my critic to look at this matter a little more carefully. It
is by no means a mere question of words, but^ as I have endeavored to
show in a Discourse in the same number of the Radical in which his letter
appeared, a question between Verity and Illusion, between the Real and the
imaginary ; a very serious matter indeed. For Dr. Clarke cannot have
^iled to observe that while each man must in fi^rt judge by his own reason^
most men are under /Ae illusioH^ and a very, positive one, that they can
shift this perilous function upon some '* infallible Outward Authority *' :
that it is, indeed, the main business of their religious teachers to conf rm
this illusion, and provide some such imaginary Outward Authority f(Nr its
satisfaction. And we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that this illusion is
no mere verbal profession, or airy nothing on the lips, but a tremendous
power in the life ; that it stultifies and perverts this very ultimate judge
within, whom we cannot avoid ; that it frames creeds which Dr. Clarke
himself regards as harmful, and governs churches which he considers
antichristian in spirit ; that it enslaves and persecutes, and leads to no end
either of foolish imagination or inhuman conduct In his eagerness to
smooth away differences whose importance he does not appreciate, he en-
tirely overlooks all this, and presents the law of mind in question in a very
inaccurate way. From the fact that the reason must be the final interpreter
and judge, he infers that the Protestant and Catholic really assert this, and
admit that the Infallibility of Bible and Church is really lost in that of tlie
aforesaid private interpreter and judge. " They do not differ " he says»
" from the radical, as to the criterion of truth." Who does not know that
the fact is otherwise ? Both Catholic and Protestant imi^iue that they
have, somehow, put the infallible Source of Truth in place of their own
fallible reason, which they openly surrender and denounce. They imagine
that their private limitations are lost in this outward infallibility. They
differ in toto from the radical as to the criterion of truth. With them it is
the Bible and the Church, with him it is the souL Though both classes
follow the same law, the one class are under the illusion that they have
escaped it It is no part of the mental law aforesaid that everybody should
understand It, or wisely use it
To overlook this is, however unintentionally, to make one's self the advo^
cate of moral indifference. It is a difference of false and true principles of
belief which we are here told b not worth considering. Are we then to
concede that false principles must not be confuted, and that enxyrs do no
harm ?
If I went too far in calling such a question as the above the great Re-
ligious Question of the Ages, I prefer to err on this side of overestimating)
rather than on that of treating it with indifference and contempt
But Dr. Clarke's conAisioi^ goes deeper still. He wishes to prove that
there is no issintial difference of belief between men on this subject of
Authority. And here is the argument The Catholic it is. true regards the
Bible and the Church as inMible < Sources.' And the Protestant has the
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220 The Radical.
same notion of the Bible alone. But does not the radical admit that
" Christ is a Source " ? Does he not necessarily " stand in a receptive
attitude " while in his presence, '* keeping the critical fiiculty still, while the
apprehending Acuity is acting, &c. " ? All the difference then is that " Or-
thodoxy regards Christ and the Bible as Sources in a higher sense appar-
ently than they are regarded by the radical." In what this " apparently
higher sense " consists, Dr. Clarke does not appear to know, and considers
it the defect of ' Bond or Free' that it does not supply his lack of knqwl-
edge. I would suggest that the difficulty lies entirely in the fiict that he is
trying to find a " boundary Hne " of degree, where the difference is really
one of principle. He may come at the squarer of the circle and the in-
ventor of perpetual motion ; but who shall show him the boundary line,
where fellible authority passes into infallible, and a Source into M/ Source ?
Dr. Clarke, however, is persuaded that it is but a question of more and
less ; if somebody would only inform him how much of the fallibility of a
Source is to be chipped off to turn it into an in&lUble one ! For myself
I must abide in the conviction that he will only waste valuable time on such
questions, and that the sooner the real difierence of principle is recognised,
*• the better for the interests of knowledge."
The true Catholic or Evangelical will be somewhat surprised to hear that
the authority of his infallible " Christ " stands in his mind for only a larger
amount of that sort of confidence which Dr. Clarke puts in Murray's Guide
Book ; and that when he renounces the right to question this authority, he
is but " holding the critical judgment still, while the apprehending power is
acting," only a little more so than the unbeliever I He knows it is a totally
different kind of confidence, an absolute and implicit, as the other is a con-
ditional and provisional kind. He does not realize that his own reason Is
all he has to judge by ; but he does know that M^ attitude of his reason is
essentially different from that of Dr. Qarke towards his human and therefore
fallible, Christ ; being determined by the principle that human reason can
and must be supplanted by infallible teaching from a supernatural Source,
while the other, if it means anything, means the precise negative of this.
The individual who goes to Emerson and Thoreau with the same kind of
confidence with which the Orthodox believer goes to his Christ, exists in
an undiscriminating imagination only. There is no sane Theist who does
not know that these men are fallible. There is no sane Evangelical who
does not believe that his Christ is infallible. Dr. Clarke may act on the
postulate that the words of Jesus are to be treated like the words of Plato
where they seem to contradict each other. But his Orthodox neighbors
act on a postulate which absolutely excludes this. Their ' analogy of feith '
requires that Jesus, being infiillible, should be somehow found never to
contradict himself. His * analogy of faith ' requires that Plato, being £U-
Hble, should be judged in particular passages as one liable to all the incii-
dents of fallibility. The pleasing words ' analogy of faith ' may confuse the
simple, but do not touch the root of the matter. These principles of belief
are mutually exclusive. The radical who goes to the Bible as a Source of
Truth, ^ oidy not so much as to others," and the Orthodox who goes to
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James Freeman Clarke on Authority. 221
the Bible as the only infidlible Source of Truth, differ in this ; that thej aim
in opposite directions, the one at free inquiry into human opinions, the
other at entire submission to an unquestionable Word of God. The man
who should read the words of Jesus with the same predisposition in their
fcivor which he feels towards those of Plato or Parker, (Dr. Clarke's ^not
very alarming test for the radical^ and the man who should read them with
the preconviction that they are in6Ulible, would diflfer in this, that the one
favors his Author provisionally, the other accepts his Autocrat absolutely.
The one principle cannot be applied in the sphere of the other. If Dr.
Oarke objects to so many words and illustrations to prove a plain matter,
I lament the necessity of using them ; but it is not I who have darkened
the plain matter by confounding its terms.
"If the soul may be trusted, then we do not need and cannot have author-^
itative teachers." This was the statement in ' Bond or Free, ' defining au-
thoritative in the usual way, as ^^ supematuraJL and infallible, ^^ " Wrong" :
protests Dr. Clarke. On the contrary, " we must have authoritative, that
is, influential teachers ; and if we reject {sic) Jesus, we shall take Comte or
Spencer " I This is an extraordinary mode of meeting a prqx>sition: to
put a sense into it which cannot possibly belong there, and then object that
its terms do not hold together !
In reply to such criticism, I have simply to say : It is vain to attempt
resolving this question as to the structure of human nature, to which all
the great problems of belief go back, into a mere dispute about words. Let
the dismal illusion which separates men's hearts and enthrals their reason,
and denies the divine therein, be recognized, and fairly, squarely met I
will not apply the term * manipulation ' again, but I will say : Let not the
'liberal' minister try to smooth the question down, when it comes up
among his fellow-teachers, nor to pooh-pooh away their efforts to bring it
fairly before the public mind. And do not eviscerate words of their recog-
nized meaning, clap in your own, and then holding up the old shell to the
Orthodox or Catholic adversaries, cry, " See how we all agree ! " You will
lose ground b) this kind of strategy in your inevitable controversy with
them. Frankly accept the fact of an essential difference in principle be-
tween you ; and then set forth the law of mind which when once thoroughly
understood, may serve to bring you together.
Dr. Clarke is at hearty like myself, a radical ; notwithstanding the ingen-
ious fable of the Bee, the Ant and the Spider. My difficulty is not in de-
fending my Discourse against his doctrine of authority, but in reconciling
the latter with his own position at the Unitarian Convention, and in de-
fending him against his own Discourse. I am glad his Letter does not
undertake to justify the action of that Convention. Does it justify his own
Sermon on that occasion ?
Infallibility proper does not enter into the idea of Jesus as presented in
this Letter of Dr. Clarke. He recognizes no authority essentially different
from that of the not exactly supernatural Murray, and that of the decidedly
human Comte or Spencer. Jesus is supernatural in a poetic, not philo-
sophical sense, as one wduld speak of ^lesser masters," like Newton or
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222 The RacJical.
others, only more so; a mediator like '* other inspired men," who are also
mediums between Man and God : and the mediator, only as having medi-
ated in certain most important matters. Now Dr. Clarke proposed in his
Sermon to the Unitarians, a Chnrch Universal and Eternal ; and he pro*
posed to build it upon Jesus ' Christ ' as its organic, official, divinely ap-
pointed Head ; " the same yesterday, to-day and forever." Not only are
all the terms conmionly applied to the official Christ liberally strewn through
the Sermon, such as * the Son,' * the Saviour,' * the Master,* * the One Medi-
ator,' * Faith in him the one thihg needful,* * the Church the body of
Christ,* and the rest :— but as if to make their official meaning clear, the
Liberal Christian is informed that it is his duty to teach that *' the End in
aU of God's creation is to bring all His souls to Himself in that great day
of judgment, when every knee shall bow, of things in heaven and in earth
and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Christ is Lord, to the
glory of God the Father ; when all things being subject to the Son, and aH
enemies under his feet, the last rebel obedient and the last sinner penitent,
death and hell being both cast into the lake of fire, the Son shall give up
the kingdom to the Father, and God be all in alL" I will make all possiUb
allowance for poetic ardor and personal affection to Jesus, here. But even
then, I must affirm that if words have any positive meaning, the Doctrine
of the Letter and the Doctrine of the Sermon are mutually exclusive, and
one or the other must go to the ground.
The * saving essential faith ' to which the Sermon of Dr. Clarke invites
Catholics, Protestants, religious outlaws and heretics generally, is £uth in
this essentially official Christ All the noble liberality of certain passages
in the sermon pales, while the shadow of this definition £edls upon them.
It is " at the feet " of this Christ that the heretic is invited " to sit." There
is not a syllable to imply that there can be any other way of "saving" the
soul, but this. When a change of Unitarian base is spoken of^ or the car-
rying of Christ over to the Gentiles, or the heresy of " putting anything
between Christ and those he is to save," it is this official Christ that is held
in view all the time. ' Thomas Didymus ' is to be informed that though he
may not believe himself to be saved by " the one mediator," nevertheless
this one mediator is with him there, saving him, and " perhaps " is about
to " make him one of his apostles." Thus it is idle for Thomas, whose partic-
ular objection may be to this very officialism, to pretend that what he wants
is a God nearer to him than any historical personage can be. — Neverthe-
less, I venture to suggest, Thomas may not be so very far astray, after
all, in supposing that Unitarians should have something better to do than
carrying their mediatorial Christ back and forth like a Hebrew teraph or
Catholic Host
If nothing was meant but that all men should have the loving and devout
spirit that was in Jesus, why not say this simply and directly ? That would
have been consistent with the doctrine that he stands but as a greater
among " lesser masters," But it would not have afforded ground for en-
throning him, where the Christ of the Sermon was to be enthroned. Here
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James Freeman Clarke on Authority. tz$
He is the centre of the Spiritual Universe, the one vicegerent of sahratioB.
It 19 the heresy of Roman Catholicism and Orthodox) that ^ they boild up
other mediators of creed, church, andtxpirUnet between him and man, to
that he ceases to be /^ ^m/ mediator," He is ^ Jesus Christ, the same yes-
terday, to-day and forever/' What Dr. Clarke meant by all this language
borrowed from the real Orthodox believers in aa officializing Christology,
he of course best knows ; but if it is not wholly inconsistent with the doc-
trine of his Letter concerning Jesus, then words must surely be an inven-
tion to conceal meaning. THe * analogy of faith ' does not enable me to
reconcile this Christ, of whom the Church Everlasting is < the Body,' with
a ' human Master,' who is tks mediator only in the sense that he has ^ in-
troduced," historically, *' a certain conviction among men" ; no natter how
important that conviction may be.
But how were the Unitarians to understand diis language, borrowed froai
the older sects ? The true liberals among them were seeking how they
might avoid an unbecoming sectarianism. The sermon gave them to un-
derstand that the borrowed plumage might be worn without this blame ;
that the old formulas expressed but the reasonable desire of ''the Mar3rs "
to be allowed << to sit at the feet of the Master," without taking part
in *' the disputes of the Marthas." In adopting one of these formulas
as their basis of union and condition of comaunion, the Convention could
claim on the authority of Dr. Qarke, that they were perfectly unsectarian.
But were they so ?
It is certain that, to say nothing of Jews, neither pure Rationalists nor
pure Theists, — and there were not a few earnest radicals of this class
present at the Convention, — could without violence to their own convictions
set their names to the confession of feith there adopted. They could not
put a human Master in the place of God, and they were of course excluded.
And so I said that partly under Dr. Clarke's managemtnt^ a conservative
policy triumphed in the name of a noble liberality. I did not use the word
unkindly. I referred to the policy of seeking to create 'an era of good
feeling ' by smoothing away essential differences of conviction.
I cherish a warm personal regard for Dr. Clarke, and a sincere admira-
tion of his faithful services as a Moral Reformer. It is only in his mode
of dealing with questions philosophical and ecclesiastical, that I find my-
self at issue with him. And observing his misapprehension of representa-
tive men like Emerson and Parker, and representative principles Uke these
now under discussion, I must frankly say that the inconsistency of his posi-
tions seems to me to result from the conflict between his natural freedom
of thought and breadth of sympathy on the one hand, and a certain excess
of traditional feeling towards the official Christ of the sects, and love of
ecclesiastical organization on the other. His influence over our young
ministers has recentiy been larger than that of any other preacher of the
liberal school, and in many respects, deservedly. But is not its prevailing
tendency to make them rest in a traditional and imitative virtue ? " Join
tiie Church and sit at the feet of Jesus," does not seem tome quite adequate
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924 The Radical.
to express the call of the tNne to these young men* I would rather he said :
** Trust God and follow Him, and Jesus shall be added to you." The Day
is more than the Church, and calls for prophets.
An illustration may be taken from this very letter. Dr. Clarke asks if
Jesus did not " introduce among men the moral conviction of God*s Father-
hood and Man's Brotherhood." I do not understand in what sense any one
can be said to " introduce " a moral conviction into the human souL No
one can take such a conviction ready made from another. It is not imported,
as are silks and jewelry through a custom house. The most that any
teacher can do, is to quicken the natural germs of it, in those around him,
to fuller life. The soul is itself the revelation. Given that, you have all
gospels germinant. It is therefore impossible in the nature of things to put
your finger on the moment when a moral conviction appeared in the world ;
and the attempt to do so for the purpose of proving sin exclusive mediation
of one person therein is irrational. History, studied as we now study it,
teaches nothing more plainly, than that these divine guests elude the
search for their origin ; and wherever you sound for them, lead back into
that tissue of interwoven transmission and inspiration which no man can
unravel or fathom, and which no man should attempt to break. Everywhere
is some report of them ; nowhere the knowledge of their birth. We may
loosely say that this or that teacher first taught a certain moral doctrine :
but this inaccuracy will not do when we are inquiring seriously how man
came by the belief in it The Religion of Jesus did not drop into history
from the sky. Dr. Qarke says it is a law of mind that every one shall have
masters. Had Jesus then no masters ? The Christianity of Jesus was the
outcome of human tendencies : his inspiration new as personal power, but
not new as essential truth. Inspiration but expresses what seeks expres*
sion in all men : nor shall you measure how far its convictions have already
found growth in that natural soil which needed no new elements to bear them.
Its existence anywhere is but the pledge that its mark is everywhere. All
you can say is that mankind advances in the light and in the use of it
The theory of importation requires that the conviction should have
stood in Jesus in its absolute perfection. How can we aflfirm this ? It is
certainly the most difficult problem concerning him to separate what he was
from what has been attributed to him by the advancing ages, which have
made him the vessel to hold all their wine. Who shall tell us how far what
is now understood by the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of Man,
is consciously affirmed in those instincts of pity for the sinning and the suf-
fering, and of trust in the Divine Care for himself and his true followers,
which constitute their meaning in Jesus' Life ? It is certain that the pas-
sage in the gospels which most distinctly teaches them is a quotation from
Isaiah. (Luke iv : i8.) It is certain also that Paul's statements of the
Brotherhood of Man are, as statements^ broader tiian anything in the gos-
pels, which are as certainly deformed by Judaistic narrowness, here and
there attributed to Jesus himself. And Paul owed something to his early
culture as well as to Jesus, whom he never saw.
But I do not presume to gauge the sense of divine words, whether ut-
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James Freeman Clarke on Authority. ^25
tered by Jew or Gentile. Shall 1 then disparage the insights of all odier
seers in order that one alone may be exalted? It is singular that Dr.
Clarke should ask where, outside the New Testament^ the beliefs in ques-
tion are to be found. Where then is this written : ** Like as a &ther piti-
eth his children " ? Or this : " How excellent is Thy loving kindness ! the
children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of Thy wings " ? Or
this ; " Have we not all one Father, hath not one God created us ? Why
deal we treacherously with one another " ? Who called the Lord " slow to
anger, father of the fatherless, nigh to all that call upon Him in truth ? *' Or
who predicted that nations should beat their swMxis into ploughshares, and
learn war no more ? Shall we ignore our debt to the Hebrew ? Can we al-
together deny the claim he puts in, that except m3rths and dogmas concern*
ing the official authority of Jesus, there is nothing in Christian belief which
cannot be found in Hebrew teaching ? On what, according to Jesus himp
Felf^ hang all the law and the prophets ?
Dr. Clarke admits that the Spirituality and Sovereignty of God, the great
Moral Laws, and the Progress of the Soul, were recognized before the timft
x>f Jesus. Does he suppose that these could be realized without infusion of
trust in God as a Father, of love to men as brothers ? Do we come at one
attribute of Deity at a time, or at one human relation at a time ? " Never,'*
says Schiller, '* appear the immortals, never alone."
He does not find God represented as the Universal Father, and all men
as brothers anywhere in the Ethnic Religions, and thinks we may infer from
this that * Christ is the one Mediator of these truths.* Does he reflect that
in thus claiming for Christianity the exdosive origination of its principles,
he invalidates its claim to be the Universal and Absc^ute Religion ? The
Roman Catholic is wiser, in basing certitude, as he claims to do, on ^ uni-
versality, andquity, the agreement of mankind.'* '* Nothing should be mari
ancient for man,** sa3rs even Cicero, '* tham that justice, which looks to the
good of men.**
I cannot but hope that I have been more fortimate than Dr. Clarke in
Uie search for these beliefs. It is needless as well as impossible here to
do more than hint at a few instances. I find the Universal Fatherhood of
God in the Socrates of Xenophon, in the H3rmn of Cleanthes, and in the
Hymn of Aratus, quoted by Paul in his appeal to the Athenians : in Maxi-
mus Tyrius and Simplicius, in Manilius, Epictetus, Seneca, Cicero. I find
almost every Greek or Roman poet from Hesiod and Homer dowd, desig-
nating Jupiter as the Father of Gods and men, and drawing the inference of
his universal care. I find Philo declaring all men brothers by virtue of
the inspiration of the Eternal Word. The Golden Rxde belongs to HiUel as
well as to Jesus : * Forgive if you would be forgiven,* to the Son of Sirach
as well as to the Son of Joseph. The boundless philanthropy of the Confu-
cian ethics points cleariy to a foundation in the early religion of China.
The A vesta teaches in the name of the supreme God, that the sinners at
the Last Judgment shall condemn the righteous man because he did ncA
save them. I find a real instinct of universal brotherhood in the Buddhist
**law of grace for all,** propagated through Asra with an unequalled energy.
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2z6 The Radical.
and a democratic love the more intense for the depth of that radical misery
which it saw in all existence. I find the orator Quintilian continually ap-
pealing to the sentiments of compassion and brotherly love, as the noblest in
man, and * as uniting all men by the will of the Common Father.* I find Cic-
ero over and over again affirming that men are ^^ created iox ih^ purpose of
mutual help,'' and that *' one man should never be unfriendly to another,
for the simple reason that he is a man." I know not where I should end,
if I should undertake to quote what Cicero, Epictetus, Aurelius and Sen-
eca have said of the common citizenship and brotherhood of men. I believe
most thoroughly with Saisset, that Stoicism ** anticipated Christianity in the
recognition that men are brothers and brothers in God/' It is difficult to
see how any student of Roman civilization at the beginning of the Christian
Era can doubt that the universality of spirit attained by the new faith was
largely due to the influence of Roman Law, Philosophy, Philanthropy and
Piety.^ Need I refer Dr. Clarke to the concessions of early Christian
Fathers concerning the wisdom of the Heathen, or to the statement of the
orthodox Merivale, that " while the apostles preached the commandment of
Jesus that he who loveth God love his brother also, the same instinct and
sympathy sprang spontaneously, and without a sanction but that ofnature,
in many a (heathen) watcher of the wants and miseries of men " ? Let me
say in general, what I hope one day to prove more fully, that I find all
through the Oriental Religions vigorous germs of these great natural beliefs,
quite adequate to guarantee their fullest expansion in Christianity. It is
easy to point out inadequacies and inconsistencies in these earlier confes-
sors. But the assumption I oppose is not that the convictions in question
were more purely conceived, and more grandly lived by Jesus than by the
others ; but that they are so exclusively his that he may properly be called
the ''one mediator" of them between God and Man. This phraseology
seems to me quite unworthy the free thought and scholarship of this time
and this coimtry. If Christianity is to be our religion, it must be founded
in nature, not on the absurdity of a gospel appealing to no human experi-
ence, a teacher declaiming in an unknown tongue. In this I am sure Dr.
Clarke will agree with me. But some of his positions almost imply such
absurdity.
The question does not depend on historical testimonies. What If we
could not find one teacher who had lisped of these eternal verities before
Jesus ind Paul? The inference of Dr. Oarke would not be justified.
Truth is not bound to come only through the * mediation ' of the man who
may have first uttered it, nor of the man who may have best lived it. Es-
sentially, it comes in others as it came in him. Education and Inspiration ;
Past and Present ; God, the Soul and the World ; — these, its Eternal
Factors, abide lor alL Samuel Johnson.
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AMERICAN SOCIAL SCIENCE ASSOCIATION.
SECOND GEMEIUU. HESTIKG,
♦
This body, which held its first general meeting on the 4th of October
last, opened its second general meeting in the hall of the Lowell Institute
in Boston, on Wednesday, the 27th of December, 1865, at 10, A. M.
Prayer having been offered by Rev. Dr. Neale, of Boston, the records of
the previous meeting were read. From these it appeared that the officers
of the Association, as at present serving, are the following :
Prksidknt. — Prot WiHiam B. Rogers, i Temple Place, Botton.
ViCR PitvsfDSDTS. -* I. Kf V. Thomaa Hill, D. D., Harvard College, Cu»-
bridge; 2. Charles £. Bucldngham, M. D., 911 Washington Street, Boston ; 3.
Hon. George S. Boutwell^ M. C, Groton, Mass. ; 4. Franda lieber, L. L. D., 4^
East 34th Street, New York.
Directors. -— i. Rev. £. O. Haven, D. D., University of Mi<^|^A» Ann Ar-
bor ; 2. Mrs. Mary Eliot Parkman, 109 Boylston Street, Boston ; 3. David A,
Wells, Esq., Custom House, New York ; 4. Hon. Emory Washburn, Cambridge ;
5. Mrs. Caroline Healy Dall, 70 Warren Avenue, Boston.
General Secretaries. — i. Samuel Eliot, I^ L. X)., ^i Chestnut Street, Bos*
ton ; 2. F. B. Sanborn, Esq., 12 State House, Boston.
Special Secretaries. — i. Hon. Joseph White, Williamstown, Mass; a.
James C. White, M. D., 10 Park Place, Boston ; 3. Hon. George Walker, Spring-
field, Mass ; 4. Prof. Theodore W. Dwight, Columbia College, New York.
Treasurer. — James J. Higginspn, Esq., 40 State Street, Boston.
The chair was occupied by the President, Professor Rogers, who
ealled on the Recording Secretary to bring forward any business which
might come before the meeting.
Mr. Sanborn, the Secretary, then read a fist of Honorary and Correspond-
ing Members, which had been agreed on by the Executive Committee.
The Honorary members, residing in America, were the following :
Dr. E. Sayre, New York ; Samuel B. Ruggles, Esq., New York ; Henry Bar-
nard, L. L. D., Hartford ; A. Bronson Alcott, Esq., Concord ; Rev. Frederic N.
Knapp, Yonkeis, N, Y. ; Prot Daniel Wilson, Toronto, C. W. ; Edward A.
Meredith, Esq., Quebec, C. £. ; Rev. Philip Carpenter, Montreal, C. E.
To these were afterwards added, Henry C. Carey, Esq., Philadelphia ; Charles
L. Brace, Esq., N. Y.
The Corresponding Members, residing in Europe, were the following :
In Great Britain and Ireland, — The Right Honorable Lord Brougham,
George W. Hastings, Esq., John Stuart Mill, Esq., M. P., Thomas Hughes, Esq.,
London ; Miss Mary Carpenter, Bristol ; Matthew Davenport Hill, Esq., Birm-
ingham ; Sir Walter Crofton, Winchester ; Edward Peacock, Esq., Botsfbrd
Manor ; Lord Radstock, Miss Frances Power Cobbe, Edward Chadwick, Esq.
C. B., Edwin Lankester, M. D., William Farre, M. D. F. R. S., Hon. Edward
Twistleton, Prof J. E. Caimes, London ; Captain J. M. Whitty, James P. Or^
gan, Esq., Dublin ; Sir John Bowring, Exeter ; Prof. Henry B. Rogers, Glasgow.
In France,— M. Bonneville de Marsangy, Paris ; M. F. A. Demetry, Mettr^y ;
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228 The Radical.
M. A. de Gasparin, Paris ; M. Gostave de Felice, Montauban ; M. Edward
Laboulaye, Paris.
In Belgium, — Hon. Henry S. Sanford, U. S. Minister, M. Edward Diiq>etiattx,
Brussels.
In Prussia, — Baron Franz Von Holtzendorff, Berlin. i
In Italy, — Signor Martino Beltrani Scalia, Turin.
In Russia, — M. J. Kapnist, St. Petersburg!).
The name of Lord Brougham was objected to by Mr. G. H. Snelling and
Mr. Capen, on account of his expressions in regard to America. A discus-
sion followed, which was closed by a brief speech of the President, depre-
cating any rejection of members on account of their opinions, and reminding
the association of the life-long services of Lord Brougham in the cause of
human improvement. The list was then adopted by the meeting, die names
of Messrs. Kapnist and Laboulaye having been inserted at the suggestion
of Rev. C. F. Pamard.
The Executive Committee, through the recording secretary, then proposed
a by-law allowing the Executive Committee of the several departments to
hold meetings of their departments at any time and place they may choose.
This was adopted bv the meeting.
The President then addressed the association, calling attention to the
objects of investigation, and showing the practical connection between all
the physical sciences, and what is called "Social Science." Professor
Rogers spoke with great force and clearness, and was applauded by the
audience.
The subject of Education was then brought forward by Dr. Hill, the Pre-
sident of Harvard College, and Vice President of this department His ad-
dress related to Problems in Education, and was full of interesting observa-
tions on the subject
At 12 o,clock the chair was taken by Dr. Charles E. Buckingham, Vice
President of the department of Public Health ; and Mrs. Dall, one of the di^
rectors, presented a report on the subject of a Library devoted to Social Sci*
ence. This lady stated that there was great difficulty in America, in obtain-
ing works of authority on such questions ; that the Boston Public Library
contained a small collection of such works, but still very insufficient ; and
that it is very desirable to raise money and purchase such a Library to
fiicilitate the operations of the Social Science association. Mrs. Dall spoke
with earnestness on this point, and closed by stating the desire of the As-
sociation to welcome women as members, and to receive suggestions and
papers from them.
Dr. Buckingham then laid before the Association certain questions which
the Executive Committee of the department of Public Health had proposed
for discussion in the coming year. There are six in number, as follows :
1. Quarantine, considered in its relation to Cholera.
2. The Tenement House ; its economical and healthful arrangements,
and how by legal means, to provide for the latter.
3. The present method of drug inspection in the United States.
4. Pork, and the diseases in man caused by its use as an article of food
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American Social Science Association. 229
5, A system of sewerage applicable to large inland ciBes, and intended
to promote health in the future, as well as economy in the present
6. The adulteration of milk.
Dr. Buckingham then read a paper by Dr. A. B. Palmer, on " Sanitary
Education," in which was given an interesting scheme of lectures on san-
itary matters which have been commenced in the University of Michigan
during the past year.
Dr. Palmer's paper gave a general view of the subject treated, fortified
with illustrations and statistics. At the conclusion of this paper, a little past
one o'clock, the association adjourned.
At the opening of the afternoon session, Henry C. Carey, Esq., of Phila-
delphia, read a paper on " our National Resources." Mr. Carey began by
contrasting the countries in which capital commands a high rate of interest,
with those in which the rate of interest is low. He then dwelt on the im-
portance of bringing the producer and consumer near together, and thus
avoiding the " petrificiction of capital," as he phrased it He spoke of the
waste of capital and resources in America, giving several illustrations of
this. He commented on the neglect of our mineral wealth, on the cost of
the tariff of 1846, which he estimated at 6,000,000,000 a year for a long
period. He contrasted the paralysis of labor during Mr. Buchanan's ad-
ministration, with the extraordinary activity of the four or five years of war.
The cause of this change was, in his opinion^ the increased rapidity of cir-
culation of the products of industry, and the tariff of 1861. He gave sev-
eral illustrations of his statement that our products had been enormously
increasing during the past few years. In a brief review of the industrial
history of the United States for half a centxuy, he spoke of the effect of suc-
cessive tarife, ascribing the prosperity of the country to a protective policy,
or what he called, " National Free Trade," in opposition to " British mon-
opoly." The views of Mr. Carey, while strongly favoring protection, w^ere
ably stated and clearly illustrated, and commanded the close attention of the
aucUence, who applauded heartily at the dose of the paper.
E. H. Derby, Esq., of Boston, followed Mr. Carey, directing his remarks
to the importance of the New England fisheries, and the Reciprocity Treaty
with the British Provinces, which he hoped would be renewed. He dwelt
on the antiquity of our fisheries, on their value pecuniarily, and as a
school for seamen, and spoke eloquently of the services rendered by the
Massachusetts fishermen to the country in the Revolution, in 181 2, and in
the late rebellion.
John L. Hayes, Esq., of Boston, added his testimony to the importance of
the Reciprocity Treaty, which he trusted would be renewed. He believed
its advantages were mainly on the side of the United States, although both
parties were gainers.
At the close of the remarks of Mr. Hayes, the association adjourned to
10-30 A. M., on Thursday, December 28th.
The session was opened l^ a paper firom F. B. Sanborn, the Recording
Secretary, on Prison Discipline in Europe and America. Mr. Sanborn
spoke of the Irish Convict System, and of its real founder, Captain Macon-
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:^30 The Radical.
ochie, who, however, had no direct connection with the establisment of
the Work System in Ireland under Sir Walter Crofton. Portions of two
letters from Captain Maconochie to Horace Mann in 1846, were read, in
which an account was given of the state of aflairs at Norfolk Island, before
and after 1840, when Captain Maconochie was sent to take command thete.
These letters, which have been published, are of great interest A brief
account of the working of the Irish system since 1854 was then given, and
extracts were read from a letter of Captain Whitty the present chief of the
Irish prisons, in which the present condition of these persons was stated.
Mr. Sanborn concluded with some account of the movement for a reformed
prison discipline in America, which has been commenced within the past
two years.*
The second paper was read by Dr. Ray of Providence, on the Isolation
of the Insane, in which it was stated that the imprisonment of the sane in
asylums rarely if ever takes place, either in this country or in England, —
Mr. Charles Reade to the contrary, notwithstanding. Dr. Ray also pre-
sented, with the needful explanations, a project of a. law for the regulation
of Insane Asylums and Hospitals. The whole paper was admirable, and
was well received by the association.
Professor W. P. Atkinson next read a paper on the English Civil Service
Examinations, in which that subject was fully discussed. He was followed
by Charles L. Brace, Esq., of New York, who read a most interesting paper
on the Sanitary Legislation of England, fortified by statistics and by the
results of his own observation during a recent visit to England.
In the afternoon session of Thursday, Dr. Edward Jarvis of Dorchester,
read a paper on the Duration of Human Life, in which he touched upon the
subject which Mr. Brace had treated, drawing from the same statistics in-
ferences of another kind, of no less importance. This was the last paper
read ; but a commtmication was laid before the association on the Eight
Hour System in Australia, and some discussion was had in regard to the
paper of Mr. Carey.
After speeches from Professor Rogers, Judge Washburn and other mem-
bers of the association, the meeting adjourned at 4 P. M. on the 2$th.
It was the general opinion of all who attended the sessions, that the asso-
ciation had begun its labors with great spirit and in a very interesting man-
ner. It is understood that the proceedings of the October and December
meetings, together with the papers read, will soon be published in a small
volume for the convenience of the members. We venture to say that this
volume will contain much that the general public will wish to read. s.
* This paper was very full and valuable, and we are glad that it will be printed
for the service of the public.-* Ed.
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BOOK NOTICES.
MISS CARPENTER ON PRISONS*
When Lord Brougham in his late address at Sheffield, spoke of Miss
Mary Carpenter, as living written the ** fullest account of the whole sub-
ject " of English and Irish Prisons, he paid a most deserved compliment to
a most deserving laborer in the cause of Social Science. Mary Carpenter
is the daughter of Dr. Lant Carpenter, well known as one of the leading
Unitarian clergymen in England thirty years ago ; and she has eiven her*
self for so many years to the study of Crime, especially amene children and
women, that she may well be reckoned a high authority. In the present
instance she has written of a matter which concerns Americans greatly ; for
the present state of Prison Reform among us, when compared with mhat it
was twenty years ago, is such as to make us blush for the indifference with
which we have viewed a momentous subject
There is scarcely a country in Europe, not excepting Spain and Greece,
which has not witnin the last fifteen years materially improved its prison
system, while ours is probably worse than in 1850. Jn Sweden, Denmark,
Germany, Holland^ Belgium, France, Italy and Portugal, the changes have
been many, aad the general improvement very marked. In England and
Ireland, however, a fundamental change of system has been adopted, which
is more important to the world than any of tne ameliorations introduced in
other countries. We refer to the introduction of what is called Penal Ser-
vitude^ with its concomitants, tlie Work System of Captain Maconochie, the
Ticket of Leavey the Intertnediate Prisons of Sir Walter Crofton, and the
Patronage of Discharged Convicts, best illustrated by the labors of Mr.
Orgin of Dublin. Penal Servitude takes the place of the vicious methods
of Transportation and Prison Ships, which are now definitely abolished,
and has been enfcnrced, under conditions the most favorable to reformation
of the criminal, in Ireland alone. But by virtue of certain changes in the
law of England, made in 1864, the ^nvorable conditions which Sir Walter
Crofton instituted in Ireland, are now being introduced in England also,
where Sir Walter himself now lives.
We cannot here go into the details of the world-renowned Irish Convict
System, for which we must refer our readers to Miss Carpenter's book.
A synopsis of it may also be found in the Special Reports of the Massachu-
setts Board of State Charities, (Senate Document No. 7%, and Public Doc-
ument No 19, Supplementary, 1865.) But we must say a word of the real
oridnator of the new Prison System, Alexander Maconochie.
When in 1832-4, Archbishop Whately suggested to Earl Grey, that sen-
tences should be imposed on criminals, not for time, but for a certain
amount of work to be done, he made a happy statement, which it was left
for Captain Maconochie to verify and illustrate. This veteran sailor, the pu-
pil of Nelson and Cochrane, the companion of Sir John Franklin, has won
his best laurels in the reformation of rogues. Sent by Lord John Russel in
1840, to take charge of the humble convict depot of Norfolk Island in the
South Sea, he converted it into an orderly and moral community by the
application of the principle which Whately had laid down, but which Macono-
chie had also devebped for himself The story is one of the deepest inter-
est, as is the whole career of Maconochie. This too^ our readers wiH find
detailed in " Our Convicts," although the later labors of the old Captain are
not there dwelt upon at any length. He was for a while the Governor of the
♦ Our CoKvicts. By Maiiy Carpenter, l^don : Longman's. 1864.
Bostoh : W. V. Spencer, 138 Washington Street 1865.
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232 The Radical.
Birmingham Gaol, and is said to figure as one of the heroes of Charles
Readers " Never to Late to Mend"
The IVork System is the work of Captain Maconochie, whose theory of
it contains several things which have not yet been put in practice in Ireland
or elsewhere. But Sir Walter Crofton, who in 1S54 took up the work
which Maconochie had begun, has shown in Ireland, and is showing at the
Winchester goal in England, how valuable an aid it is in the reformation,
of criminals. On this subject, and on many others. Miss Carpenter's book
is an Encyclopedia of facts and arguments. It lacks methodical arrange-
ment, and what is an indispensable part of such a book — an Index ;
but it will repay the reader for a complete perusal, which wiU alone dis-
close how rich it is. S.
An Examination of Sir William HABnLTON's Philosophy, and of
THE Principal Philosophical Questions Discussed in his Writ-
ings. By John Stuart Mill. In two volumes. Boston : William
V. Spencer. 1865.
Extreme transcendentalism, and the opposite metaphysic of Mr. Mill
are alike attempts to produce offspring from a single parent One would
obtain knowledge solely from within, uie other solely from without ;' while
in truth knowledge is the joint product of native mental resource and sensi-
ble experience. Transcendentalism elects the masculine term, and has
accordingly a virile and genetic force, which it is exhilarating to see ; while
Mr. Mills system places the mind in a purely feminine attitude without
doing justice to it in that position ; for he concedes to it no vital, gestatory
power, but only an ability to take in and arrange what comes from without,
as furniture is taken into a house, and set in order.
The cardinal doctrines of Mr. Mill are, that there is nothing higher than
knowledge, and that knowledge is no more than the sum and correlation of
our sensitive experience, shed out and extended by inference. To what
straits this drives him is suggested more than sufficiently by the fact that
he declares our inability to conceive of a round square, or of an object at
once wholly white and wholly black, due merely to the accident of our never
having seen a round square or such a white-black object ! We have no
right, he says, to declare this Yes — No, impossible. In other words, for
aught we know, the shortest distance between two given points may be also,
and in the same sense, fwt the shortest distance ! To absorb all the sun's
rays without reflecting any, may, for aught we know, be compatible with
reflecting all his rays without absorbing any ! Mr. Mill is a brave man, and
toes the mark in every instance ; but what to say of a system which pushes
a powerful intelligence to confusions and imbecilities like these ?
The pursuit of metaphysic, at least in its present state, is a very poor em-
ployment ; yet a treatise upon this subject which should rescue it from one-
sidedness, and do justice to man's mind while recognizing its relation to
man's sensible experience, would render a service to our century which it
were not easy to surpass ; and perhaps some one of us, who sees, (or at
least thinks he sees,) the way out of the present imbroglio, should constrain
his inclination, and set about this work. If only matters of immediate prac-
tical interest did not press upon us all with sucn tyrannical urgency I
As a criticism upon Sir William Hamilton's collossal confusion, and upon
the orthodox atheism of Mr. Mansel, the present work is above praise. Mr.
Mansel, in particular, is crushed like a mosquito by the sharp spatoi a man's
hand. Yet the moment Mr. Mill comes to construction, he is trying to .
make one side of a roof stand alone — an enterprise which not even his vast
ability can redeem from ridicule. D. a. w.
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THE RADICAL.
MARCH, 1866.
DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
IV.
THE ADEQUACY OF NATURAL RELIGION.
LET us recapitulate. All evidences of Religious Truth rest ulti-
mately on the testimony of the Spiritual Nature of Man. And
no authority of the sort designated as " supernatural " can ever
go behind this, supplant it, or supply its defects. Neither the Bible,
the Church, the word of Jesus, nor the alleged Miracles, can of them-
selves prove any doctrine true. They are themselves to be tested by
the Spiritual Nature, and stand or fall according as they do or do not
ftilfill its organic demands. Moreover, the representative of the Spir-
itual Nature in each person is the state of his religious consciousness,
Ae condition of light or darkness, good or evil therein. It is always
this, not Bible, Church, or Miracle that determines his belief When
he thinks he is judging by their authority, he is really judging by this,
and its authority. It is idle to talk of infallible revelations, of super-
natural proofs, when there stands behind all teachers, a judge within
us, who decides for us what every doctrine shall mean. We rely on
this authority, and cannot help it The way to reach Truth, there-
fore, is not to go to Bible, Church, or Miracle to see what is true, but
to fit the mind and the conscience for the natural discerning of truth.
The first step is to be thoroughly free and thoroughly in earnest ; it
is to put away once and forever all enslavement to outward authority,
and all the selfish aims and passions that distort and pervert the
vision of truth.
The Constitution of the Soul is our living Bible. . The endeavor to
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234 The Radical.
learn and meet its real needs is the way of salvation. The Presence
of Gorf therein is our Saviour. The life that flows through its chan-
nels into our lives is our Inspiration.
The Word of God is in every one of us ; nigh unto us, in our very
mouths. We need not go afar to a chosen race, to an exceptional
Age or Person. We shall only be sent home again to our natural
faculties, to our simple moral and" spiritual needs* We may as well
admit it We cannot see with infallible eyes. We cannot walk with
supernatural feet We must see with our human eyes. We must
walk with the feet that are given us. It is idle to be querying what
grounds we have for trusting them. We have of course no other than
this, that we are so made that to trust them is the condition of all
normal sight and locomotion.
Let the Abanas and Pharpars go. We cannot get any other foun-
dation for the earth than the present sustaining Power of God. We
may put a tortoise under the layers and say it stands on that ; and
then an elephant under the tortoise, and then a sphynx under the
elephant ; and so on down and down ; but after all, we come to the
same heavenly spaces, where no visible foundation is, and end our
earth-pfopping there, as we might have done at the first And so we
may put our supernatural " Christ " under the natural faculties because
they are so unreliable, and under him the infallible Bible or Tradition,
and under that the chosen Hebrew Race. And as we lay them one
under the other we may say solemnly, " Other foundation hath no
man laid"; — and, " Behold the Rock of Ages"; — and, "This is
the way, the truth, the life ; no man cometh to God but by this." Yet
where are we at last, but staking the whole upon those very faculties
we had doubted and despised } What can sustain the new founda-
tions but that in which the first was laid, the spiritual nature that is
in every one, and read by him according as he is ? Tortoise, elephant,
sphynx, brought us no nearer the resting place for our faith than we
were when we stood on the green Earth, and looked straight up into
the blue deeps of the divine mystery that holds us every instant in its
arms ; aye — no nearer than when we devoutly marked how a little
leaf was growing or how a drop of dew reflects the sky.
We must rely on our Nature, through which we see God, enough to
believe that it is quick and stanch with His Goodness and His Order, •
and that our consciousness, rightly treated, will teach us more and
more of these. This, then, is the Philosophy of Faith. Implicitly
trust the Natural Constitution of the Soul as the foundation of all
spiritual knowledge. If it is unreliable or inadequate, there is nothing
for us to trust, since we cannot get outside of it, nor beyond it Find
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The Adequacy of Natural Religion. 235
God in itj ihm, by devoutly studying and following its laws. No creed
that disparages any faculty can be right No enslavement to author-
ity, to imagined infallibility at the expense of Reason and Nature,
can save. It is putting out our own eyes, and cutting off our own
feet. All possible light of science, all possible love of freedom, truth
and good, are needed to bring clearly out the Revelation of God in
the Spiritual Constitution of Man, When that revelation is exhausted
or hopelessly disabled, you may pray for another and a better ; or
you might do so, were it not impossible that there should then remain
within you either any desire to .receive it, or any divinity to which it
could appeal. To regard Jesus as the sign that human nature had
become thus disabled, so as to need the supplementing of natural re-
ligion by " revealed," is to forget that recuperative energy which is
its simplest law ; it is to argue its degradation from its very divine-*
ness, and its beggary from the very splendor of its respurce.
What, then, is this Voice of Nature ? Is its import clear and posi-
tive ? Is its witness, as history and experience report it, adequate to
teach and guarantee our best solutions of the momentous questions
of life >
In a recent admirable work on " Ancient Law," I find it stated that
" contrary to the general impression, the stable part of our mental,
moral, and physical nature is the largest part of it" Such recogni-
tions, from a purely practical point of view, are signs of healthful re-
action on the sensationalism which has boldly denied, and the super-
naturalism which has disparaged, the immutabU element in human be-
lief. The report of nature on certain matters has been uniform from
the beginning ; and these are precisely the most vital of all. That
the special meanings attached to such words as Deity and Duty
should alter, is a condition of growth, to which all conceivable reve-
lation is subject But the changing shapes are all bom and fed from
certain constant intuitions ; and the whole succession of religious be-
liefs does but evolve the divine purport of these, by natural law.
This is the fact of facts. These are the root words of man's eternal
speech ; on these let the emphasis fall. Wherever you find Man, there
you find the irresistible instinct of worship. In whatever rude way
he may express the need, he must and will find some object of reli-
' gious awe and trust Nor has there ever been a rational person who
did not practically, if not consciously, confess the authority of a
Moral Law. This is but another form of belief in a God, and will
serve to prove to one who imagines himself an .Atheist, that after all
he is no such moral and intellectual monstrosity as that So the fact
of spiritual need and the nature of moral choice and right purpose
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236 The Radical.
are the same in all ; if we can but get deep enough and look simply
and freely enough to see it
Nor is the quality of belief so different in different ages and races
as is generally supposed. It is all ont Tree of Life, and the stress of
one structural law is everywhere, from its first cotyledon to the grand
sweep of its latest foliage. Wherever the earliest stages are passed,
there is always in the conception of Deity some sense of Omnipo-
tence, of Imperishableness, of Justice, of Providential Care. So the
multiplicity of the ancient gods always involved a vague unity for the
ind of the worshipper. It was assuredly one thing, drvinmess^ that
lc found in all of them. In the oldest Veda they all mean essentially
the same, and are mutually interchangeable. The moment man
began to be self-conscious, he began to infer a divine unity from his
own individuality, and he has never forgotten it Sometimes th4
Yhole was believed to be God, as All in all. This was the Pantheistic
idea of Divine Unity. Sometimes different forces of Nature, physical
and moral, were taken as diverse manifestations of Deity. This was
the Polytheistic sense of Divine Unity ; and however obscure in the
general mind, it found expression in those who penetrated to the sub-
stance of their own belief The learned argument of Cudworth in
proof that Monotheism is at the root of all ancient theology, is but
the expansion into volumes, of what the great masters of ancient
thought have simply affirmed. It is indeed only by degrees that the
conception of Deity, compend of all human passions, has reached
moral unity ; in other words, has come to be based on certain great
moral principles as universal in the divine government. The best
minds in the Hebrew race do not seem to have reached it any earlier
than those of the Hindu, Persian, Greek. But men instinctively act
upon the presumption of moral immutability long before they distinctly
conceive the idea of Law. Nor could any person of simple and con-:
sistent character have found it unnatural to shape the many deities
of his traditional faith or the single God of his peculiar enlight-
enment, into the image of the moral unity organized within him. All
the great Religions^ Oriental, Greek, Roman, brought forth in some
sort, as seeds folded in their thought of God, the Infinite as Spirit,
as Sovereign, as Judge, as Father ; leaving no holy Name for Christi-
anity to invent And all our root words of prayer and praise are of
immemorial antiquity, the earliest Aryan and the latest American
their common heirs.
And let us remember that there must be certain moral postulates^
forever indisputable," to make religion, social ethics, or indeed social
union in any form possible. The Greek tragedians sang of these
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The Adequacy of Natural Religion. 237
" unwritten laws, commanding purity of word and deed, not of to-day
nor yesterday, not born of man, nor ever growing old." How all the
great legists are led back to this same fountain! It is Cicero's
"Right Reason, not one thing at Athens, another at Rome, nor
wrought by popular decrees, but uniform, coeval with the Divine
Mind." It is Blackstone's " law of Nature, whereto if any human
statute be contrary, it is not valid." It is Milton's " law of laws, fun-
damental to all mankind." It is Montesquieu's " substantial principle
of all societies." It is Hooker's " archetype of all human laws, its
seat the Bosom of God." " Justice was before society, and men do
come together, as even Aristotle says, for the common good." On
no other principles than those of mutual obligation, the sacredness of
promises, the duty of men to stand by one another for mutual aid, can
States exist. And the final doctrines of International Law are but
what the oldest societies implied ; that " a State is a moral person^
whose obligations Siurive changes of government ; " and that " the
equality of each with the rest is necessary to the very conception of
States."
The " Law of Nature " here denoted, is no " social contract " made
in some unknown primitive stage of social life. It is no system of
actual laws that was ever constructed. It means those moral beliefs
that are' so deeply rooted in man's constitution that they appear
wherever his social relations are well brought into play. It is re-
markable that the expression was first applied by the Romans to
those social rules Which they found to be generally recognized by the
various nations with which they came in contact. And this recogni-
tion of universality soon grew to an idea of Immutable Morality.
Hence the " Equity " of the Roman praetors. Here the Stoics found
ample basis for that sense of moral fitness which the Greek mind al-
ways attached to the idea of Nature, and reared a sublune ethical
system in all essential respects coincident with that of Christianity.
Nature was their sacred word. They saw that whatever individual
men might do, it was human to acknowledge these principles of Duty
and of Good.
" Do as thou wouldst be done unto," says St Augustine, " is a
sentence which all nations under heaven are agreed upon." " The
law of all nations," says Cicero, " has forbidden one man to pursue
his advantage at the expense of another." And these statements are
unquestionably true as regards the positive intent of law as such, not-
withstanding all legalized oppressions of the many by the few. These
have always been instituted under the pretence of justice ; doubtless
justified originally to some extent in the minds of their authors by
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238 The Radical.
imagined right, and most assuredly daring to claim no other founda-
tion before the worid. No people ever ventured to appeal to any
other authority for its legislation, in face of mankind, than justice ;
not even the Southern Confederacy, which tried hard to make Europe
believe it loved liberty better than the Nation did, against which it
rebelled. And this is because the worst tyrant comprehends the fact
that he who has done injustice has always had society for his foe.
He knows well that he must defend himself before a bar of immutable
equity in the himian soul. This brings all usurpers to their knees,
and wrings from their utmost hypocrisy a tribute to the nobility of
hirnian nature. The confession is as old as the world. "There is
something in Slavery which has at all times shocked or perplexed
mankind, however slightly advanced in the cultivation of its moral in-
stincts." The castes in India grew out of the earliest needs of social
organization rather than out of intentional wrong. They were a rude
attempt at the division of labor, directed by the Religious Sentiment.
And when at last they had become a system of frightful oppressions,
all kinds of theories were invented by Brahminical ingenuity to place
them on foundations of right dealing between man and man. Greek
philosophers and statesmen went back to supposed differences in intel-
lectual, moral and physical capacity between races, to find some plau-
sible excuse for Slavery before an instinct of. true manhood, which
pleaded against it within them. Roman lawyers fabricated in expla-
nation of it, a stipulation fgr perpetual service on the part of captives
whose lives were forfeited by the rules of war. Centuries before its
abolition, Rome had confessed its sinfulness, and philosophy and
jurisprudence had entered protest and plea in vain. It stood by force
of its vested interests and traditional prestige alone.
The Stoics recognized the instinct which struggled forth in every
ancient social theory of lasting importance, when they declared that
" all men were created for ihe very purpose that they might help and
serve one another." Even Plato's aristocratic Republic was based
on the "duty of each to live for the benefit of all " ; while his " golden
breed " of guardians were stripped of all private rights that they might
be utterly devoted to the public service. And the C}tiis of Xenophon
is the Greek ideal of a prince governing mankind so as to win their
universal consent. The oldest theory of all, the Patriarchal, whether
Chinese, Aryan or Hebrew, had a moral basis in the sense of filial
duty. And its traditions did not fail of those noble sentiments, reli-
gious and humane, of which the domestic affections are the natural
germs, spreading forth, as the Confucian ethics describe them, from
the individual through the family and the neighborhood, to the whole
face.
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The Adequacy of Natural Religron. 239
Generosity, for^encss, courage, self-sacrifice, have ever had the
spontaneous respect of man's social nature. From earliest to latest
times, the chord of sympathy has quivered to the same patriotic deeds
and magnanimous aims. The same actions that made men famous
in the days of Xenophon and Plutarch make men famous now, and
are needed to meet the conscience of this day also. We dream we
have sight of special moral truth never known before, and celebrate
our Christian prerogatives therein. Then some sdbolar pores over
an oW Bhagavatgita or Zendavesta of the Gentiles, or older Vedic
psalmody of what to us is the Morning of Time, and brings forth
thence the treasures of aspiration and recognition that are the guar-
antees of our best Some didactic* Confucius is seen in far antiquity
drawing purest moral doctrine from the wells of a Past that seemed
remote even to him ; or some brave democratic Buddha protesting
against the tyranny of caste in the name of a " law of grace for all"
And Cicero at last sums up the issues of ancient thought and prayer
in this' universal gospel : — " Nor is there any one of any race who
cannot attain to virtue by the light of nature ; and virtue is no 6ther
than the unfolding of human nature into the likeness of God."
And so Christian and Heathen flow together across the centuries ;
and we recognize that our best living waters come from one fountain-
head with those, which the world's fathers drank in all climes. And
our advance is in this, that these waters have become pwer and
sweeter and fuller as science and social opportunity have enabled
man to reach greater depths at that one fountain head — the Spuitual
Nature.
Out of the oldest Bibles we may demonstrate' moral and spiritual
Brotherhood. Surely it is an ungracious and unbecoming task to
strive as many do, over jealous for that honor to Jesus and the Bible
which least regards their real glory, to disparage these evidences, and
reduce them within the smallest compass by a distrustful and captious
criticism. It is better with Cudworth, and I^Doker, 9fid Selden, and
Grotius, and Lamennais, scholars of every creed, to gather them up
with patient and glad research, as proofs of a divine purpose in the
ages. It is better to rejoice that the natural constitution of the soul
is adequate to spiritual needs, and to recognize in the virtues which
glorify every age, the witnesses that it can maintain unbroken com*
munion with the God of its everlasting growth. All that is noble in
its faith and life is noblest as testifying of its natural laws. Own
children of these are the prophets of every age and every religion,
}esus no less than the rest; children who have best loved their
mother's breast and followed her precepts. It was on an immutable
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240 ' The Radical.
amscimce diat the authority reposed by which they have spoken to Ae
oldest kings and the latest people. From this dieir inspiration, and
to this their appeal.
The testimony of Nature to Immortality is equally universal with
the recognition of moral laws. Doubt is exceptional, and explicable
where it exists, by peculiar local and individual causes. Hebrew m*
di£ference on the subject grew out of the "absorption of that people's
whole soul into i^ immortality of their theocracy. From the begin-
ning the heart has looked beyond the veil of death. Codes, creeds,
ceremonials, mythologies, customs, monuments of art, all testify to
this instinct, from the poles to the equator, from the savage to tiie
saint. The earliest temples, perhaps, were tombs of ancestors ; the
eaiiiest known fact of human history, dug out oi the tertiary caves
among the bones of extinct animals, is that men believed in a 'Mife
beyond.'' The belief wais necessary to reconcile man to this life, and
he hesitated not to trust a voice thus original and imperative, as truth
and destiny. He did not believe his Maker had played him fiailse, or
taught him so to yearn for what had no reality. On this basis he has
dared to transfer to a future existence the fulfillment of his highest
dreams of justice, love, and power.
Our spiritual Nature, then, speaks with no uncertain voice concern-
ing the substantial truths of Religious Beliefl Not only do they
require no supernatural or supplementary evidences to establish tiiem,
but their highest forms^ supposed in the popular faith of Christendom
to be due to such exceptional forces, are guaranteed by the progress
of mankind in earlier ages, as purely naiurcU growths. Faith in the
Fatherhood of God,' and the Brotherhood of Man, in all that Christi-
anity means to the deepest and purest souls, is here seen in more or
less advanced stages of attainment ; and the grand word and life of
Jesus are pure nature.
Such b the testimony of History. Now let us look at that of Per-
sonal ExperienqfB. On frhat authority can it rest the highest princi-
ples of Duty, the best aspirations of Love and Worship ? Are there
natural evidences which supply the assurance not to be found in
an "infallible Bible" or a "miraculous Saviour"? The question
already discussed concerned Historicar Progress ; this concerns Indi-
vidual Life. But the two are one. Here also the answer is : the soul
is adequate ; its testimony is not merely the only possible, it is also
the ample and impregnable foundation for these beliefs.
I have called them developments of universal intuitions. They
come in the course of a natural progress ; are presented to the better
and more advanced souls as the results of their growth ; and thus
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The Adequacy of Natural Religion. 241
guar^teed and enforced, they are seen as directly as any we call in-
tuitive ; nor would it be over bold to call them intuitions of the second
and higher grade. Like those more universal ones, they are not log-
ically proven. They are recogrmed rather, as one recognizes what
belongs to him by nature, and cannot be dispensed with, when once
recovered. All the premises of experience are seen pointing to them,
their forerunners and guarantees. They cannot be fiedse, imless ex-
perience is a fraud.
Spiritual growth leads directly to die conviction that we cannot
dispense with a Fatherly Providence, that cares for our least as for
oiw greatest wants ; an Infinite Wisdom that orders all events by per-
fect laws ; an Infinite Justice whose retributions are remedial. It
calls for a God whom transgressions cannot turn away from us, who
]pities most those who most need His pity, and justifies those who
most lack justification in the sight of a formal self-righteousness.
It calls for a God who has made every aspiration for Truth, Beauty
and Good to be satisfied. The need is as profound as it is inevitable.
The instant you realize how mighty it b in a really earnest soul, you
know that it is itself ample explanation and justifice^on of these beliefs.
The great mysteries which have come to view in life and death can-
not be boldly confronted without such faith. The anxious and refined
affections which belong to hi^ civilization cannot dispense with sudi
guardianship. Under this pressure of nature, the Reality of that In-
dwelling Love to which it points, becomes simply a spiritual axiom, a
self-evident truth. To every experienced person its fitness to meet
the conditions of life, assures its being their positive solution. It is
impossible to refer his certainty to anything else. It could no other-
» wise be attained. This is the soul's recognition of its Father : as face
answers to face in a mirror, so the infinite satisfaction to the infinite
yearning, hope, need. By the word need I would express something
more than a sense of compulsory belief: a natural aspiration, a clear
recognition of absolute fitness, of harmony with noblest and most in-
dispensable desires. It is thus, and thus only, that the faith in such
Fatherhood must have grown up into the perfect assurance it had in
the heart of Jesus.
Or again : let us note the foundations of our faith in Immortal Life.
The understanding cannot show that we shall "live again." All
the phenomena of death are against it. Natural analogy cannot prove
it The same flower that died does not rise next year, but a different
one. The butterfly that comes out of the chrysalis was already con-
tained in it ; and this second birth is not properly a change from visi-
ble to invisible Itfe. There was a time when one was not ; why may
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241 The Radical.
not a time come when he shall cease to be? — This failure of the un-
derstanding is compensated by a natural instinct, testifying clearly
wherever its light has not been smothered by the queries of logic, or
the vices or cares of the life. The belief, such as it is, rests on this : on
no miraculous evidence, on no force of demonstration.
But it is generally supposed to rest on the authority of Christian
tradition. It lies inert, pillowed on the creed or the common report,
divorced from the soul, till it loses its vitality, and no longer appre-
ciates its origin or proper force. In the hour of its trial, it makes
hurried appeal to the understanding, and is challenged with a scrutiny
it cannot bear. Who shall trust hearsay on so serious a matter?
Who knows that "Jesus burst the tomb " ? Or if he did, what does
that prove for us, unless he be a mere man like us ; and then would
not the Church be wrong in its theory of his nature, and so, quite as*
likely be wrong in its tradition of his resurrection? — We are too
much in earnest to be satisfied with mythology or sentimentality, and
all prepossessions are shattered.
Then the instinct learns its own meaning, and native right It
grows with the call to meet the great need of that spiritual nature,
whereof it is the voice. And we find ourselves believing as children
who behold the face of their Father, and know it by its loving kindness,
by its all-sufficiency to take away their fear. For we have been car-
ried by the stem experience beneath the accidental and unreliable,
the outside of life : we have felt our being touched to the quick : we
are kneeling at its hallowed fountain heads, its eternal oracles.
Then the strong needs of our affections bring deeper assurance
still. We cannot endure the destruction of that which is part of our
own living self. The whole ;5piritual nature revolts at the suggestion
that all this ripening sympathy, binding souls, not bodies, was for
nothing, and must end in nothing. I suppose one grand purpose of
death is to teach us a boundless faith in the affections. The pressure
it brings to bear upon them unfolds then: power to oversweep all out-
ward separations and dissolutions. And so, if we would have im-
pregnable certainty of Immortal Life, we shall find it in noble friend-
ship, which dares to stake its possibilities of happiness on sympathy
in generous aims, and so to confront the worst that death can do. It
is sowing an inexpressible need, to reap an inexpressible assurance.
We are speaking now of an Immortal Life which means Progress,
which points beyond death to new help for the weak, new disciplines
for the erring, new light on the dark places of experience, new knowl-
edge of the riches of God. Thoughtful persons say it is proved by
the imperfection we see in this life, and the manifest infelicities and
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The Adequacy of Natural Religion. 243
inequalities of human condition here : they infer it alike from the
large capacity and the small attainment of the Soul ; alike from the
incompleteness of what we are and the boundlessness of what we
hope for. But what are these inferences when closely observed, but
expressions of the natural necessity that is upon us to explain these
strange phenomena of our life ? From height and depth, from cen-
tre and circumference, comes the mighty need. It is the cry of our
Nature, aind its answer is Immortal Life.
This is need in no poor, unmanly, servile ^ense. All the currents
of our being set thitherward, with a primal and eternal impulsion ;
and we recognize their grand purpose as they roll. The testimony is
the more thorough as we pursue more earnestly the aims that become
us as immortals. In proportion to the dignity of our desires do we
approach the sense of necessary existence. AVhen we have once tasted
the powers o" true living, how can we let them go ? How can life, so
inexhaustible, so precious ^n its uses, possibly go to the dust? Felt
within us, or seen without us, these spiritual values are the pure ne-
gation of death. Beside the fresh graves of their young heroes, can
Americans believe in annihilation ?
There is somewhat in the nature of Rectitude which awakens in its
worshipper the s^nse of indestructible affinity and union. He stands
on a rock which neither time nor change can move. He becomes a
part of the absolute principles for which he lives. In so far as these
are organized in his character, he lives in their eternity, not in his
own mortal desires and fears. Every conviction partakes the Eternal
Beauty of the Moral Order. How bald and trivial by comparison are
the so-called " Evidences of a Future Life " I Here the moral need
has flowered into a consciousness of immortal /^w^. The soul is tes-
tifying of its inmost constitution. There comes no doubt to cloud its
faith. Truth, Holiness, Love, Joy, and Immortal Life are one; as
real as its own existence ; since in them it properly exists, or fmds the
sense of existence. As reasoning has not proved these things, so
Church, Bible, Christ are just as little the foundations of them. All
good men and things are helpers : but this is a spiritual faith reached
through spiritual organs.
What are all lofty standards and ideals but expressions of invinci-
ble moral needs ? Do they not rule the soul as its natural sovereigns ?
To deny them is unfathomable shame and self-contempt Men bow
to their inward authority as a reed to the wind. Men stand up and
speak in their name like trumpets of God. Every genuine affection
springs from a longing that cannot be set aside. The larger the per-
ception of duty, the intenser the sense of moral necessity, the " woe is
me if I obey not," from which it proceeded. The social regenerations,
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144 The Radical.
whether outfiamings of pity and love, or reluctant obedience to over-
ruling justice, come in the resistless tide* of perpetual and organic
'forces. States are led to them neither by supernatural revelations
nor by exceptional evidences : neither by miracle, infallible record,
nor official mediator. They come because we are made for them ;
we accept them because they are natural steps in our social growth.
How do we know, we who see but in part, and that through many
tears and much failure, that good shall come uppermost with us at
last ? Keep truth with your own spirit but a little while, and you will
cease believing that you can take your goings into your own hands.
Though you labor to the utmost of your force, you must lift up those
hands, to feel after a Divine Necessity that hedges in your ways right
and left, puts limits to your perils, and guards you where it leads.
And in this need of a sovereign Destiny, is bom the assurance that
all shall be well. By and by we believe upon authority of sweet and
wonderful experienced of divine care. Those lifted hands had fol-
lowed nature, as the flower turns to the sun. Follow back your faith
in the best issues of conduct to its source, you find it in the impossi-
- bility of doubting that a radical thirst, an absolute need, points uner-
ringly to its own satisfaction.
What incomparable force of evidence! Can this gospel of an
indispensable claim, this one condition on which life is worth posses-
sing, or indeed anything better than a failure and fool's errand, deceive
us ? Could creed or report, could natural analogy or " supernatural *'
wonder begin to make the fact so plain? Take the nearest duty:
labor for an idea : give your heart to a pure and helpftil friendship :
and see if you are not led into a yearning for overruling good, so deep
that it bears its own assurance with it ; — an answer that waits for it
as the spring for the seed.
Who are they that insist the world must go on the old way, "truth
forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne " 3 no wisdom ever
got from experience ; evil organic ; wicked hates and tyrannies part
of a natural order, and never to be expelled from Church, Market,
Government, Home? If the "Evidences of Christianity" are what
prove that a better ftiture is coming, why is it that so many thousands
who sat in the very shadow of rite and covenant, or on high seats
in the hierarchies, and who are, according to all dogmiatic probabilities,
the very elect, have held liberty and justice the two impracticable
things in this world, and all who predicted them fools, until revolution,
as regenerative as it is terrible, has come to confound their unbelief?
The "Evidences of Christianity" do nof prove the "better future."
To believe in that, one must dwell deep enough in his own being,
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The Adequa^cy of Natural Religion. 245
to know what it insists should be true in order that life may appear
a reasonable and worthy gift of God. It is the answer that a true heart
makes to the stem alternative, forced on it past escape : — Either give
it up that there is a God and a Law of Justice overhead, or else trample
the iniquities which deny them under the feet of your* conviction. To
face this emergency is the path to practical belief. Are we not see-
ing a Nation lifted into this assurance of a sublime Future, by being
torn from her selfish slumbers and placed in the very jaws of that tre-
mendous alternative ? It was so easy to say " Slavery is doomed " ;
-!- easiest for those who had least desire that the doom should OeiII I '
But no man ever truly believed Slavery was doomed, till he saw
clearly that his conscience would perish if he did not so believe. And
no people ever can know that Slavery is doomed until they find by
practical encounter with it that either it and^l thatxomes pf it must
perish, to the last fibre of wicked prejudice, or their own civilization
goes down to death. No man ever practically believed Intemperance
or any social vice would be mastered, until it came to his conscience
in this shape : — either this rot must be stayed, or the ship of moral and
spiritual life is to sink. Whether in private or public reformation, the
practical struggle must force the need into a mighty demand : then
wakes the assurance of victory.
I do not overlook the faith in good that comes not by compulsion,
but by pure force of fine spiritual instinct and religious genius, or a3
the bloom of an inherited moral vitality. I am speaking here of that
form of conviction which \s practical power in the hard battle with es-
tablished evils. What I would emphasize in it is the might of that
certainty which is revealed when the depths of our Nature are stirred
and heaved into the disclosure of its essential demands.
But spontaneous or enforced, these certainties are proofs of the
benignity and adequacy of the Spiritual Constitution. They rebuke
the unbelief which resorts for explanation of what is best in human
thought and faith to supernatural interference, to a superhuman Christ
sent to supplement the natural incapacity of the Soul. Jesus and
Christianity did but illustrate this indefeasible divineness of human
nature. They were a fresh outflow of its native light and love : a
historical result of its organic movement from the beginning : a re-
sponse of its reserved powers to the mighty demands of the struggle
with moral evils ; its magnificent disproval of the dogmatic pretence
that its spiritual force can ever become exhausted, or its faculties dis-
abled from finding and following God. They yield, in one word, the
precise negative and full refiitation of the whole traditional dogma of
the Churches concerning their origin and meaning. The same nat-
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246 The Radical.
ural forces that sufficed then, still suffice, and ever will : as familiar as
eve and mom, as action and reaction, as hindrance and help. And
the grand intuitions, ripening with the ages into clearer sight and
larger power, still stand face to face with Eternal Truth.
" The Word is very nigh thee." He who believes that the fruit of
good labors shall not perish ; he who will sacrifice daily bread to save
his honesty ; he who will not be bought to do base service of any
kind ; who loves* truth, helpfulness and holiness for their own sakes ;*
follows instincts as true as that with which the child seeks its mother.
It is Recognition ; highest form of Intuitive, or Direct Seeing. It is
the instinct of character, whereby the just person knows the just God
who has made him for justice, and every true giver the Spirit who has
formed the heart in the image of His Love. It is not wish, nor con-
jecture, nor argument, n«r imagination that he sees by and relies on.
It is the whole Spiritual Constitution, testifying of the law according
to which it was organized, and made to live. His certainty can be
weakened only by his falling away either from righteousness, or from
liberty. Then, divided against itself, the soul may well be found call-
ing its surest testimony a fancy or a snare, and proclaiming that there
can be no guarantees but in "supernatural revelation." An ignoble
life will spoil this testimony one way ; through the suppression of
our affinities for truth and goodness. The traditional theologies will
spoil it the other way, through the suppression of our liberty. But
neither the moral nor the intellectual perils can disprove the inherent
adequacy of the Soul as the organ of Divine Life, nor invalidate its
authority as the only guarantee of Religious Belief.
FOUND.
Into the forest I saw 'mid shadows,
I listless went, A floweret stand ;
To seek for nothing A star *t was shining ;
Was my intent An eye so bland.
I thought to break it, — With all its rootlets
Then soft it spoke : I bore it where
Shall I to wither. The garden graces
Alas, be broke ? A dwelling fair.
And there adorning
A quiet place,
It branches ever
And blooms apace. -^/>ym« GoefAr
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FETICHISM AT HOME AND ABROAD.
BY DANIEL BOWEN.
I.
IN undertaking to treat of Fetichism, I count it no mean qualifica-
tion to have spent several years in a land where it prevaib. I
shall, however, not confine myself to those manifestations of it which
have fallen under my own observation, but, in the light of that which
I have actually seen, I shall look abroad, and into the past, and be-
fore concluding these articles, endeavor to give a rational ^account of
the whole subject.
To begin with, a proper Fetich is by no means an idol, as we are
sometimes given to understand. It is neither a god, nor an image
of a god. Fetichism, in its purity, is the religion of those who are ig-
norant of spiritual or personal divinities. Not attending to this fact
has introduced no little confusion into our subject We have been
told that religion began with attributing to divers objects in nature
human passions, will, and intelligence. Such conceptions, most evi-
dently, belong to Polytheism, and the era of personal gods. The same
error shows itself when it is said that Fetichists regard rude blocks,
or meteoric stones, as images of their gods. Pray, let us have one
thing at a time ! Historically, Fetichism may be mingled with image
worship, or, for that matter, with Christianity ; but while we are en-
deavoring to seize the idea of Fetichism, let us study it in its original
simplicity. Earlier than the thought of goS or gods, is, if I mis-
take not, that of life beyond the grave. Man has learned to believe
in his own spirit before he thinks of angels or devils. Only through
the conviction that he may exist invisible to mortal eyes, does he come
to think of other unseen intelligences. Then, Polytheism has dawned ;
but n6w we are concerned with a manifestation of the religious senti-
ment much more primitive.
Ought we to call that religion in which there is neither God nor
immortality ? There is, then, the germ of religion. Fetichism has
been called the crudest form of Pantheism. Negatively, Fetichism
and Pantheism do resemble each other ; but positively, they are at
opposite poles. The Pantheist holds everything divine, anH the Fe-
tichist holds nothing divine. The idea of divineness has not yet been
entertained. It is not our nature — the nature of modern science
— that the Fetichist sees about him, aimiverse, a kosmos, a world
all aglow with beneficent meaning ; but rather a chaos, a partly friendly,
partly hostile concourse of things. The familiar and orderly, the nat-
ural, is on the one side ; the rare, strange, and unaccountable, the pre-
ternatural, is on the other. In neither is there personal agency. We
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248 The Radical.
must not look for profound metaphysical inquiries at' this rude half-
animal stage of life. The natural and the preternatural are not sharply
defined and distinguished. They are not two separate spheres, but
the two sides of the same world. The one is that in which there \»
the manifest order of antecedent and consequent, cause and effect,
and the other is that in which events happen, unanticipated, surprising,
and marvellous.
Among ourselves, what is it that leads men to worship the common
round of things, to which they are hardened and made indifferent by
continual repetition, or the rare and wonderful ? How thankful peo-
ple are when they have escaped from imminent peril, how ready to
recognize the preserving hand of Providence, and how utterly thought-
less they are of daily and hourly sustenance. Religion comes from
the sentiments of awe, fear, wonder, and admiration, which are
awakened at first by the strange and mighty powers of nature. And
no doubt the savage crouches as a slave in the presence of the dread
unknown before he is sufficently advanced to conjecture that the move-
ments of nature are due to personal agency. Does not the Theist to-
day find it hard to persuade people that the laws and forces of nature
are but the actions of a spiritual being I The first impression is evi-
dently that natural agents are impersonal. Can there be no religion
till the agencies we are desirous of propitiating be thought of as per-
sonal ? Doubtless there cannot be that which Christians deem worthy
to be called worship ; nevertheless, there may be proper Fetichistic
homage. The end of religion is self-sacrifice, but it begins in selfish-
ness. Thus practically, as theoretically, Fetichism and Pantheism
are separated by the whole diameter of the sphere. The worship of
Pantheism is the subjection of the individual to the great whole, while
that of Fetichism is the endeavor to subject the very mysteries of the
universe to the individual. It is only a conditional worship that a Fe-
tich receives. If its presence insures prosperity, it is highly honored ;
otherwise it is cast away as worthless* A Fetidi is a charm, nothing
more. How it is able to confer fortune is a mystery as baffling to
poor human reason as the doctrines of popular Christianity.
It seem£ hardly right to apply the same word to ceremonies of in-
cantation, attempts by hocus pocus and magic to control the destinies,
as to the reverence and adoration of the heart, inspired by the thought
of the Being of beings, who is the sum of all that is good and great
Doubtless we should not be justified in doing so were it not that
Monotheistic ceremonies pass by insensible gradatiojiis all the way
down to the rude rites of Fetichism. With us, there is Fetichism in
connection with religion, and also entirely disconnected from our
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Fetichism at Home and Abroad. 249
religion. I perceive, therefore, that I shall run the risk while treating
of the latter, of seeming to be dealing with that which has nothing
whatever to do with religion, and, in treating of the former, of misin-
terpreting the symbols of pure religion. However, it is a risk which
I must run, premising only that pure Fetichism is not properly reli-
gion, that it does not contain what we regard its first principles, but
that it does have the wonder, fear, awe, and credulity of the marvellous,
the sense of the preternatural, of hiunan weakness and dependence
of which are the basis of the higher religions, and are every where so
prominent. »
Before considering Fetichism in connection with any of the power-
ful religions of the world, let us look at some of the manifestations of it,
where it makes no pretense of being either a religion or a system <rf
magic. I desire to be excused from naming the country in which the
following manifestations of Fetichism came under my own eyes. It is
the thing that we are after, and it makes no difference whether we find
it in Afiica, or South America.
While in a village among the mountains, one of the natives in con-
structmg a hut, cut his knee very severely with a large hatchet, and
inflammation setting in, he was thrown into ^paroxysms of agony. To
allay the pain, it was recommended by an old woman that the hatchet
which had done the mischief be obtained, and tenderly bandaged as
if in sympathy. She said .she had known instances in which great re-
lief had been obtained in this way. Neither the woman who suggested
the remedy nor those who fell in with it (saying that if it did no good
at least it could do no harm,) supposed that the aqt would have any in-
fluence on personal beings ; but the nature and cause' of the pain not
being understood, it was imagined that there might be some secret,
mysterious connection between the instrument which caused the suf-
fering and the knee which experienced it
In that country, children going out for berries, sometimes throw the
first one they find over the head, for luck, carefiil not to look back to
see where it falls. Such a ceremony might have some connection
with the oflering to God of the fruits, or sacrificing to Moloch the
first bom. But with those children I ascertained that there was no
idea whatever of making an offering to gods. It was pure Fetich-
ism, a simple act of magic for which there was no philosophy.
One of the most noticable observances of this character among
that people, was the superstitious regard for one of the days of the
week. I do not refer to the hallowing of the seventh day, after the
manner of Hebrews and Christians ; for though that often with u^
does degenerate into the merely Fetichistic, yet it is connected with
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250 The Radical.
the idea of a personal god. I refer to the curious phenomenon of
treating every seventh day as unlucky. It was a superstition univer-
sally prevalent, so far as I saw. It held sway even in the families of
the chiefs. It pertained especially to beginning any new work, or
setting out upon any important enterprise. As the Romans consulted
their augurs before undertaking a battle or a journey, and acted ac-
cordingly, so these people consulted the calendar-makers, and would
take great pains to avoid an important undertaking upon the ill-starred
day. Only in one instance did I know of nuptials being celebrated
on that day, and then it was evident that the barbaiians generally
looked for some terrible calamity to fall upon the devoted pair.
Another observance equally strange was the habit of treating the
right as the lucky side. One of the natives, who had started out with
me for an excursion, was inclined to turn back because some little
quadruped had crossed our path from right to left ; for a good omen,
he should have run from left to right The most marked and univer-
sally recognized omen of this nature, was that pertaining to the first
appearance of the new moon. It was thou^t that for good luck it
should be seen over the right shoulder. I used sometimes to question
them lor the reason of their faith, but I found they could give no bet-
ter account of it than our Conservatives can for their ways. The
custom had come from the sacred past, and was universally respected.
In the case of one young man, however, I was successful in producing
at first skepticism, and finally outspoken disbelief; but he confessed
fo me that he had been able to overcome all solicitude as to which
side the new moon s^^ould make its appearance by feigning to himself
that the left was his lucky side. He had got the twist out of his mmd
by bending it the other way.
This people believed in a Great Spirit ; and their Fetichistic omens
and observances they did not seem to regard as a part of their reli-
gion. *But it is probable that their ancestors, at some remote time,
had no other religion than Fetichism ; and that these are its remains,
concerning which there is not sufficient intelligence to perceive that
the two forms of faith are inconsistent
I have observed a similar discrepancy in the religion of the ancient
Hebrews. While journeying through the wilderness, they were at-
tacked by venomous serpents, from whose bite many of them died.
As a remedy, their leader made a brazen image of the serpent, and
put it upon a pole, in sight of the whole people ; and, when any were
bitten, they had only to look at the brazen image to be cured. (Num.
21 : 6-8.) Several hundred years afterwards, one of their kings,
undertaking a thorough reformation, destroyed, among other things,
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Fetichism at Home and Abroad. 251
** the brazen serpent that Moses had made : for unto those da3rs the
children of Israel did burn incense to it" (2 Kings, 18 : 4.) Here
is undisguised Fetichism. There is no intimation that the people
looked upon the brazen serpent as the image of a God. This idolatry
was not one into which the Hebrews had been seduced by their neigh-
bors. They were burning incense to the brazen serpent that Moses
had made. It was not a personal deity, but a potent charm ; and the
fact of their keeping this serpent for scores of generations shows what
magical efficacy they believed it possessed. I do not know where
you will find a more pronounced case of Fetichism.
A trace of a yet more primitive Fetichism among the ancestors of
the Hebrews is seen in the history of Jacob. Passing a night in the
wilderness, he had a wonderful dream which he attributed to the
stone upon which he had rested his head ; and, accordingly, he did
homage to the stone. The. Fetichism appears not only in the belief
that his vision was due to a mysterious quality or influence in the
stone, but in the selfish, conditional character of his vow, and in the
consideration which the stone was to receive in case he should be
successful in his enterprise. He promised that, if fortunate, he would
regard tlie stone as a sacred one, as his house of God. There is
reason to think that in after generations that very stone was resorted
to, (or a stone which was believed to be identical with it,) and at this
shrine oracles were sought* According to Jewish tradition, Jacob's
pillar was always religiously treasured in the Holy of Holies.t We
cannot overlook the fact that Bethels were common in Palestine
among the ancient Ganaanites. These sacred stones were set up
after the manner of Jacob's pillar, and were worshipped by anointing
with oil.t
The Hebrews succeeded in extirpating image-worship ; but in fireeing
themselves from Fetichism, they Were by no means so successfiil.
They universally believed in sacred charms. The most hofy thing
they possessed was the ark, or box, in which the law was deposited ;
and this material thing they believed capable of working miracles.
When they went out to battle they were wont to carry it with them
into the field, that it might act as a spell against their enemies. Even
thus the Philistines were sometimes victorious. On one occasion
• Judg. XX : 18, 26, 31, and xxi : 2. Compare DeWette's with the authorixed
versiop.
' t Smith's Bib. Diet. Art., Bethel.
I " It is not extravagant to suppose that the patriarch simply designated the
stone as a Baetylion, and that later the town assmed the Hebraized naqae of Bethel.'*
Kalisch, Comment. Gen. xxxviiL
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252 The Radical.
they took the ark from the Israelites and carried it into the temple
of their god Dagon ; and we are told that " on the morrow behold
Dagon was fallen upon his face to the earth before the ark of the
Lord ! And they took Dagon and set him in his place again. And
when they rose early on the morrow morning, behold Dagon was fallen
on his face to the ground, before the ark of the Lord, and the head
of Dagon and both the palms of his hands were cut off I "
We easily recognize Fetichism in the intelligent exertion of ph3rsical
power by that which is inanimate. But ought we not to confess the same
in the attribution of holiness to lifeless, material things ? This ark
not only proved a great pest to the Philistines, its presence causing a
most alarming epidemic in every city to which it was carried ; but it
possessed such an inviolable sanctity that when it was returned to
one of the Hebrew towns, above fifty thousand people were struck
dead because out of curiosity some of them ventured to look into it !
At length David decided to take it to Jerusalem ; but the oxen stumb-
ling, Uzzah put up his hand to steady the ark, and was struck dead
on the spot, at which David was so filled with dread of the ark's holi-
ness that he let it remain some time longer in the country.
Into the sacred Caaba of the Moslems is builded the yet more sa-
cred stone which from time immemorial has been worshipped. To
this temple devout Mohammedans are continually making pilgrimages.
That there is something Fetichistic in the homage paid to a place and
a thing is sufficiently evident to the unprejudiced. Once that sacred
black stone which is supposed to be of meteoric origin, and so literally
to have fallen from heaven, was undoubtedly worshipped as a Fetich.
The old Fetichism has indeed been greatly modified, but who would
say that it does not still exist ? Must not much the same judgment
be passed upon the extreme veneration of the Jews for their holy and
most holy places and things ?
The New Testament is not free from Fetichism. There was, at one
time, such a fturore attending the miracle-working of St. Peter, that, in
Jerusalem, " they brought the sick on couches into the street, so that at
least the shadow of Peter passing by might overshadow some of them."
The New Testament does not positively say that any were cured by
Peter's shadow falling upon them, but it seems to imply it If Peter's
shadow did not cure diseases, at all events Paul's garments did.
" From his body were brought unto the sick handkerchiefs and aprons
and the diseases departed from them." It is evident that the people
at that time generally believed in such things ; for in the history of
Jesus we read that a woman who was diseased " came behind hun,
and touched the hem of his garment For she said within herself, if I
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Is the Negro Naturalized? 253
may but touch his garment I shall be whole." Here, we must aljow
that Jesus took a different view of the matter ; and it is the one which
the reflective are inclined to take of all miracles of healing. He said :
" Daughter, tYiy faith hath made thee whole." The gross ideas of this
woman were not peculiar ; for when Jesus was in the land of Genne-
saret, the people of all the country round about " besought him that
they might only touch the hem of his garment; and as many as
touched were made perfectly whole."
IS THE NEGRO NATURALIZED?* .
No discussion of this question would be complete that did not include
the peculiarity of the freedmen^s position in the country which now claims
them as her citizens. Until this year they also, as well as every fresh cargo
of German and Irish emigrants, have been foreigners in America. As the
latter have descended the gangway of the packet, foreigners, so the negro
stepped down from the auction-block, or was cast off from the whipping-
post, a foreigner. ' They sung their songs in a strange land ; they dropped
their tears to nourish the products of an alien soil. They swarmed and
hung, isolated, to a single branch of America, touching her only at the nar-
row point of the value of their physical condition. For all other purposes
their life might have been passed in another planet, so bereft of all benefit
to the republic was it, so utterly levered from republican help and comfort.
Yet when we compare the behavior of these exiles with that of all other
races who have been foreign to America, what a sublime plea it makes to
our consideration. Observe it for a moment : recall the temper of this sud-
denly enfranchised people.
For more than f fty years our various industries have acknowledged the
impulse which the cultivation of a single crop bestowed. Each bale of cot-
ton reported no drawback of misery as it passed into the circulatioil of the
world, and yet, imbnited lives, without marriage, without education, without
wages, without deliberate choice of anything on earth, gave those bales to
civilization ; lives, stained by forced licentiousness, torn by arbitrary sepa-
rations, purposely kept on the level of the animal, and only fed that they
might work, have yielded without complaint this annual income to the coun-
try. A free laborer may count even his tears and be proud to have them
consecrate his lowliness ; but the tears of all these absentees from a Re-
public were owned by masters who despised them as they fell. God counted
them, but they did not become embittered into a cup of insurrection. When *
the slave wept, he recalled the pity of Jesus rather than the vengeance of
the Lord ; and not a single cotton blossom was crushed by his resentment.
And when our bayonets penetrated where this lucrative pain lay covered
♦ Continuation of the Article in the February No., entitled " Dangers of our
Political Machinery,"
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2S4 The Radical.
by darkness, the gleam of the steel woke no fierce hope of retaliation ; the
blood of the slaves rebelled not, athirst for the blood of their master, but they
simply came away, each with his little bundle, and said — " You have been
long in coming, but we expected you." That was the God for which they
prayed and waited. He came to them in the shape of sudden liberation,
and yet the master is still alive, hoping that an era of good feeling will save
a part of his oppressive ascendancy. Tell me, who behaves the most nobly,
the men who were sold and whipped, or the men who hope we will recon-
struct his selling and whipping, only in a less obnoxious form ? And when
these liberated men, after running the gauntlet of our contempt and hesita-
tion, were admitted to the privilege of seeing the American flag wave over
them and droop towards the protection of their arms, they were so little
used to taking; wages that they forgave a Government for employing without
paying them, and stormed entrenchments for us as gayly as though we had
a pension for their wounded and a marble for their dead. Without a mur-
mur, these representatives of an enforced alienship turned, in the dear name
of America, to face the exasperation and brutality of their old oppressors,
and at Fort Wagner and Fort Pillow were massacred upon half-pay, yet
bequeathed to the survivors no indictment, no hatred against us. Do we
say they are too dull to feel the great injustice ? A bayonat is sharp enough
to find where the nerves run beneath that skin ; and they communicated
with a brooding and a troubled mind ; but the flag, that once kept them
animals, kept them patient men. The teacher visits this race with his al-
phabet, the agent with his labor-system ; the old master contemptuously
hires him to raise food for a life that is unprofitable to America ; base offi-
cials cheat and plunder ; but everywhere, everywhere, the generous and the
selfish are met by this magnificent courtesy, this patient religion of a slave-
born heart In this transition state of their fortunes, they suffer in many
respects more hardly than when peace and plantation fare surrounded
them ; but they hug their crucifix with smiles, for our flag envelops it.
Have we such veneration for the symbol of our own freedom ? Perhaps
we have ; but I can tell you who has not ; the man who would leave the
master one chance to strip that flag from the freedman*s crucifix and
wreathe it with the planter's lash again.
The negroes at Port- Royal have not been free four years ; but they have
a Building Association, and the instinct to own land is strong there,
though it may not be so in portions of the States removed from the sea-
board. Sergeant Rivers, of Beaufort, is black enough to be despised by
every man whose natural disability to become President is shown by his
one g too much in spelling negro ; but the sergeant's mind is clear, and he
uttered one day in his peculiar dialect the theory of a true Republicanism.
** Ebery colored man," said he, " will be a slave and feel hisself, till dey can
raise him own bale of cotton, and put him own mark on it, and^ say, Dis is
mine ! " God speaks that broken tongue. And is there any one whose
public or private* negligence would leave a chance, a loop-hole, a least risk,
for the return of any form of dominion over the body and soul of such a
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Is the Negro Naturalized? 255
man — to put that heart up again in treason's raffles — to subject that
opening intelligence to overseers — to leave him at the mercy of hostile
politicians ? Whoever you are, willing to keep your own independence *
while you let such a thing be done, I declare that Sergeant Rivers is white
compared with you, and is your natural master.
And we delight to have it understood, b> the late vote of Congress upon
the District Suffrage Bill, that American unity, when confronted by the choice
between the voting of all freedmen and the yoting of none, says, All. We
may prefer to extend a uniform test over the whole land, and invite -consist-
ent intelligence to support and defend the ideds which we cherish ; but we
are less afraid of the ignorance of the freedman than we are of the treason-
able temper of his would-be master ; arid if the dilemma be forced upon the
country to choose between the men who have been degraded and the slave-
holders who inflicted the degradation, we point to the behavior which con-
secrated fifty years of suffering, and now welcomes the first year of deliver-
ance, and we say, here is naturalization — here are souls attempered by
America's best climate ; here are hearts made in her image. Let them .
take precedence of the men who have denaturalized themselves, and ousted
their souls from republican advantages, and who now recur, with fetal
proclivity, during every lull of the popular memory, to the habits afad
practices of an alien caste. Their slaves were not so remote from Amer-
ica as they themselves are this day. I will not compare this behavior of
the Freedmen with that which any other race, admitted to the political
advantages of this country, has displayed ; but I challenge comparison.
Never did the temper of an humble and ignorant class of people promise
such aggrandizement to a country. They deserve to be stimulated by the
test of education. I say, they deserve to be limited by such a test, and
saved from the dangers of an undiscriminating privilege. They have earned
this consideration of a jealous Republic. Shall we vex the stream of the
Sacramento till its drops consent to travel through our currency — shall
eagles and half eagles throng through the Golden Gate, coaxed from moun-
tain tunnels by th« magic of incessant labor — shall American citizens be
in a hurry to separate, by their very life-blood, the ore from the dross of
Colorado, to turn the tribute into the commerce of the world, and shall we *
be reluctant to farm this revenue, to probe this mine, to re-mint this crude
preciousness pf the Freedmen's behavior ? We might as well peel off the
tillable surface of our fields and cast it into the barren ocean. The coun-
try's future glory is involved in our assiduous preference of the Freedmen's
to the traitor's temper. Lightened imposts, liquidated debts, consolidated
liberties, lie unmined in the dark bosoms of that race, which has been sud-
denly annexed, like a fresh element, tp America's sun and air. Let the
people rise up, with a great impulse of anxiety, strong as the selfish one
that sent her sons to California ; let there be a pressing opinion to colonize
and claim nhis dusky domain that glitters with the virgin gold, and plant
upon it the flag that protects from foreign interference, and warns off the
aliens who want to own and to exhaust it. Its speedy contributions are
due to the schools, the churches, the resources, the ballot-boxes of America.
J. w.
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COAL CIVILIZATION.
•
Christmas in England is the great era of pantomimes. Every theatre
lays itself and a vast part of its income out in gorgeous and fascinating
plays, which, transplanted from Italy, have only reached their full flower
here in dismal London. The domain of Mother Goose and the realms of
Faerie, are ransacked for the familiar threads upon which these splendors
are to shine. " Tom, Tom the piper's son," plays on his pipe, till the thick
walls of some shabby old room dance away, and palatial halls with diamond
ornaments, and living fairies for pillars, and chandeliers shine out before
the enraptured multitudes. The old lamp of Aladdin gradually expands
into the Lamp of Day, with Apollo and his fiery steeds. At one of these
pantomimes, the first scene was that of Old King Coal and his slaves.
These slaves were boys and girls dressed and masked as dw2^fs, ghouls,
demons. I could not help thinking of the poor colliers of the North of
England, and fearing that this mask with its grotesque sprites, might be too
truly measuring the stature of their souls. And lately I have had the scene
recalled by two newspaper articles which I have read. The first was an
article in the London Times. In criticizing the efforts of John Bright and
others at reforming England, this editorial said : " There is in English
Society the conservatism of a thousand years, which has gradually accu-
mulated, ju^t as the heat of distant ages has been stored up in our coal-fields.
The national equilibrium is so stable that a movement, almost revolutionary
in its character, would only be followed by a slight temporary rocking, sure
to be followed by the re-establishment of the old equilibrium." The second
is an article upon which I mean to dwell longer ; it appeared a few days
ago in the Pall Mall Gazette^ and is entitled " Coal." This article sets out
with the idea that the greatness of England and Coal are convertible facts.
" We are all of us," says this writer, " vaguely awafe that coal is an arti-
cle of vast importance to our individual comfort and our national wealth ;
but few of us, probably, have realized in any adequate measure how com-
pletely it lies at the root of the social welfare, the commercial prosperity,
the vivid life, and the political supremacy of Great Britain. It is not too
* much to say that, more than any other agency, it is the cheapness and
abundance of our coal that have made us, as a nation, what we are. If we
were not ahead of all other countries in these respects, we should not be ahead
of them in other respects to anything like the extent we are. ' If we do not
keep ahead of them in these respects, we shall not keep ahead of them in
others — materially, at least ; and none but statesmen can estimate ^ght
the degree in which social and political cfepend upon material supremacy.
It is long since wood was a principal article of fuel in England. It can
never become so again till England has undergone a social revolution
which would almost impl^ its erasure from the list of States — till half its
population shall have dwmdled away, and till pastures and corn-fields shall
have been replaced by forests. Now and henceforth we must rely upon
our coal measures for heat, light, locomotion, manufactures, for* our engi-
neering CTandeur, for our national defences. Almost all the elements of
our comtort, of our affluence, of our activity, of our strength, can be traced
back to coal. We light our streets and we warm our houses with coal :
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Coal Civilization. 257
this every one knows, but this is the least portion of what coal does for us.
We supply our towns with water that is raised by steam-engines which are
worked by coal, and we are now about to pump awav our drainage by en-
^es also. All our railroads are worked by coal ; tnat is one of the main
in|Tedients in their cost ; if coal ceased to be, we could not travel by
rau at all ; if coal ceased to be cheap and abundant, we could neither
travel so fast,' nor so often, nor so conveniently, nor so economically. All
our manufstctiu-es depend on coal ; four-fifths at least of our great factories
are worked by steam ; water power is scanty in amount in comparison, and
often lies in comparatively inaccessible localities. Lancashire and York-
shire and Lanarkshire live by coal ; their population is fed by it ; the wealth
thev gain by supplying the wants of the world depends in the last resort,
and depends absolutely, on their coal-fields ; were their coal supply to
cease, or to become inaccessible and very costly, the collapse would be more
disastrous than any the world has yet seen."
The writer then goes more into detail to show how machinery, iron-
foundries, Armstrong guns, the iron trade, steam ships, gas, manufactures
all depend upon not only coal, but its abundance and cheapness, and con-
clndes the first part of the article with these words : — " We live by coal;
and we have got to such a pass that we cannot live without it. With coal
England is powerful, prosperous, and progressive ; without it she will be
decadent, ruinedf and disarmed.''
'And here I must introduce an episode ; it is from another article in the
same journal, and, curiously enough, in the column adjoining that which
contains the essay on coal. It runs thus :
We are the richest people in the world, and we grow richer every day.
The revenue returns for the last quarter are eminently satisfactory. Mr.
Gladstone is at once like and unlike the old Jewish false prophets who
prophesied only smooth things ; for though he prophesies what is smooth,
things generally turn out even more smooth than his vaticinations promise.
He took oil five millions of taxation by his last budget, expecting that the
increased consumption of the untaxed articles would restore a million and
a quarter to the revenue. At this rate, during the last nine months the
actual revenue would have been diminished by rather more than ;£2,8oo,ooo.
But such has been our commercial prosperity that the revenue has lost only
about ;£ 1, 100,000 during these prosperous months. During the last quar-
ter the recovery of the actual returns has been even still more striking.
The increase in the consumption of tea has been very great In 1864 we
consumed above eighty-one million pounds, in 1865 above ninety-one mil-
lions. What a picture of wealth have we here ! What gigantic products
of the loom, the mine, and the forge ! What vast fortunes reaped by mer-
chants, manufacturers, and ship owners ! What an amount of^ wages paid
to mechanics and all sorts of employees 1 Who can wonder at the splen-
dours of Rotten Row, at the crowds that crush in the ante-chambers at a
Royal levee or drawing-room, at the superb schemes of Lord Westminster
for adding fresh splendours to his territory in Belgravia ! Happy are the
people the sum total of whose wealth is so immense.
Let us turn to the other side of the medal On the day that these glow-
ing statistics were published, a London incumbent pubbshed jthe story of
one of his parishoners, which may be summed up in a very few words.
Seven human beings, the husband, his sick wife, their eldest daughter, (too
ill to earn her bread), and four little children, had been living for six whole
weeks in one room, eight feet by ten in dimensions, without either bed or
bedclothes of any description. Their furniture had been seized for arrears
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258
The Radical.
of reBt, which tb«y could not pay, being obliged to find weekly instalments
for discharging a debt for the funeral expenses of the husband^s mother,
who had died in the beginning of the year. This old woman had subscribed
to three burial clubs, in order to pay for her own funeral, but they had all
become bankrupt before she died. Set this story against the revenue
returns of 1865, and draw the moral. Ninety million pounds of tea, on the
one hand, consumed by those who could pay for it ; six weeks of half-
starvation passed through by seven people, without a particle of bed or
bedding, in a room about nine feet square. Yet it was only at the end of
six weeks that thev made application to Mr. Martin, the elergyman who
teUs the tale. And this is only one case out of thousands.
None can live even a few years without echoing the word ** thousands,"
with a mixture of surprise at the moderation of the expression. But what
of the millions of starving intellects and destitute hearts ? I once heard
Carlyle. say of a gifted woman, " She talked of progress — progress — to
tediousness ; it 's doubtful if there is any such thing." Thought I to myself;
skepticism is an Englishman as verily as steam (according to Emerson) is.
And why should not every Englishman be so, with the ever-recurring dreary
statistics of evil and sorrow ? Even old forms linger. At this moment the
English Board of trade is engaged ferreting out at Whitburn wreckers who
have lately been trying to lure ships to destruction, for pui)>oses of spolia*
tion, by imitating a revolving light. An effort at burking occurred a few
evenings ago. Charlotte Winsor is now under sentence of death for keep-
ing are gular house for putting embarrassing babies " out of the way.*^ The
murderer Forward, executed day before yesterday, justified the murder of his
children by the example of Abraham and Isaac as recorded in the Book
which Coal- Conservatism still presents to the potential Forwards as the in-
MibleWordofGod.
Into that swart, dark realm of King Coal, in the pantomime I have des-
cribed, there started up among the dwarfs and demons toiling there a fair
Sprite called " Imagination" who promised them that they should all, at
the forthcoming Christmas Time, be raised to the upper air and b'ght.
Whereat King Coal growled, and the dwarfs were much delighted, as they
showed in a grand ballet. Into the article on *coal,' to which I now recur,
there also steps a similar sprite whom King Coal and his great and rich
civilization are scarcely pleased to see. Reminding the reader that the
writer has just proved the absolute dependence of England on coal, I quote
further : —
Such being the plain unexaggerated truth, the question of our supply of
coal becomes a question obviously of life or death. Now the geological
survey of the kingdom is so complete, and the main principles and facts of
geological science are so well ascertained, that we can answer this question
with tolerable confidence. In Ireland there is no coal, or none worth
naming. In Great Britain, we know with at least approximate accuracy —
with accuracy enough for practical purposes — both the area of our coat-
fields, the area to which they reach, and the average width of the seams.
In a word we can calculate their yield ; and as coal is not a thin^ which
grows, we know pretty closely the amount of wealth which is hid in our
underground coffers, and how long it will last us at our present and at our
probable rate of consumption. We can onl|r find space to give our readers
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Coal Civilization. 259
the bare facts of the case, as they are recorded and clearly made out in Mr.
Jevons' very interesting work, lately published by Messrs. Macmilian and
Company. The entire amount of available coal in Great Britain down
to a depth of 4i000 feet below the surface is, in round numbers 80,000 mil-
lions of tons. The annual consumption was, in i860, 80 millions of tons.
If that rate of consumption were maintained, therefore, our coal would last *.
for 1,000 years. But owr present rate will, we are certain, be enormously
surpassed. The total consumption of the last ten years is half that of the
previous 70 years, and is now increasing on the average three and a half
per cent per annum, and will therefore l^ doubled in 20 yeiatrs. In a word,
if we go on, not at our present rate of consumption, but at our present rate
of increase — as, unless some check comes to our prosperity, we shall be
pretty sure to do — the whole coal supply of the kingdom will be used up
in 100 years."
But even this, adds the writer, "is on the supposition that we shall be
able to work our mines to the depth of 4,000 feet This may be possible,
but all we know is, that hitherto we have worked no coal mine below 2,500
feet deep ; and at that depth the heat becomes nearly insupportable ; that
as we advance into the bowels of the earth the cost and labor of ventilation,
of pumping out the water, and of raising the coal, increase at such a rapid
ratio that, in all probability, long before the limit of 4,000 feet is reached,
though actual working of the mines would be possible, profitable working
of them would not ; and in consequence that in taking the total available
supply in Great Britian at 80,000,000,000 tons, we have taken practically a
very excessive estimate ; and that, therefore, if our consumption were to
proceed at its present rate of annual augmentation, our mines would be
worked out, not in 100 years, but in 70." The writer does not contemplate
that this theoretical exhaustion will actually occur, but that coal in England
will gradually cost so much, that its consumption will decrease, and he says,
" it is precisely thi^ increasing cost which we have to dread ; for it is the
cheapness of our coal that has given us our supremacy. The coal of Amer-
ica is far more abundant than our own, and much of it is of better quality,
and might be more easily worked ; and as ours becomes expensive it will
be worked. The coal-fields of Great Britian extend over an area of 5,400
square miles ; those of the United States over an area of 200,000. These
are the facts — in the main indisputable — which the public has now to
digest"
In the pantomime to which I have referred, the powerful fairy — "Imagi-
nation " — was true to her word. She brought into her service an array of
supernal agents, and the Christmas glories of transformation came on.
The dull swart den of King Coal rolled away before vast dazzling floods of
light; stately silver palm-trees uprose and flowered into a blue-tinted
canopy with golden stars ; the gods and goddesses stood each in his or her
niche ; the toiling dwarfs and ghouls of the subterrene realm were laughing
happy children of li^ht All the work of art, assisted by electric light !
The crowd in the boxes, of children and parents — the working people
in the pit— the sixpenny "gods" in the galleries, shouted — nay shrieked
with delight ; one by one the artists must come before the scen^ to re-
ceive their merited plaudits, then the machinist, the scene painter, the
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26o The Radical.
f cene-shifler, some in their shirt-sleeves, were all called in and overwhelmed
with applause. Sometimes when I see John Bright tuggmg away, the
fine political coat thrown off, at the larger theatre, or Mill, Hughes, Tay-
lor, Foster, Fawcett, and many another honest fellow laboring behind old
King Coal's realm, with its accumulated ^ conservatism ' of a thousand
yoars ; " and when I see Colenso, Stanley, Lewes, Spencer, Huxley, Lyell,
and others, pushing and pulling at other parts ; — I reflect with complacen-
cy that if seventy years may perhaps exhaust the coal-fields of England,
possibly there may be with it exhausted that stolid stationary selfishness,
which the London Times calls conservatism, and compares to the heat
laid up in the coal-beds ; and if so, may there not be a grand transformation-
scene for the toilers and their dwellings, and the country which now too
often presents to them the alternatives of starvation or crime !
When Stephenson saw the first railway-train gliding over the land, he
said, in ecstasy, ** it is drawn by sunlight I " He saw welL Behind the
coal was the sunlight ; and in that present burning sunlight every ton of
coal must be burned before it can be set to working at iron or anything else.
And behind the *' accumulated conservatism of a thousand years 'I there
was the sunlight of thought : that sunlight lives in the living fibres of Eng-
land's true thinkers to-day, and in them the biggest lumps of coal-conserva-
tism may yet be turned into the heat that shall quicken England for her
Christmas mom, with its holy transformations. M. D. a
ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAIRUS. '
Two Things Often Forgotten. — The worid — or the majority of
mankind has often been incredulous concerning what has afterwards been
seen to be the plainest common sense. In the interests of a wiser action
in such respect I would commend to all well-disposed persons the following
bit of sense from the pen of the late Archbishop Whately : — " Those who
consthntly appeal to the wisdom of their ancestors as a sufficient reason for
perpetuating everything these have established, forget two ithings : first,
that they cannot hope forever to persuade all successive generations of men
that there was once one generation of men of such infallible wisdom as to
be entitled to control all their descendants forever ; which is to n^ake the
earth, in fact, not the possession of the living, but of the dead ; and sec-
ondly, that even supposing our ancestors gifted with such infallibility, many
cases must arise in which it may be reasonably doubted whether they
themselves would not have advocated, if living, changes called for by al-
tered circumstances."
Lady Duff Gordon with the Muslims. — The Letters from Egypt,
which were sent by Lady Duff Gordon to her mother and her husband, and
afterwards published in a book, I have not at the present writing been able
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Enlightenments. 261
to see. But by a notice given them 19 the IVesimiHster Review^ I have to
express my great delight both in contemplating the character of the Mus-
lims and in regarding the character of the lady hersel£ What could be
finer than this spontaneous greeting by a *' host of people " gathered to
meet her on one occasion when she returned from Esneh to Luxor : " Wel-
come home to your place ! We have tasted your abseilce and foimd it bit-
ter ! " The simple eloquence of this address — revealing so much of real,
natural goodness in both parties, which alone could have made such ex-
pressions on such an occasion possible — cannot be surpassed. How could
they have offered her in any way a more grateful compliment ? '' Welcome
home to your place I " And they were Muslims and she a Christian Eng-
lishwoman. But what of that ? Everywhere on her journey she found
brothers and sisters. None were strangers or hostile.
The Review says of Lady Gordon : '' She differs in one important respect
from the generality of modem travellers. She does not, like them, look
upon the people as mere accessions to a strange Eastern scene — like a
man or a woman barely visible in the foreground of one of Martin's mag-
. nificent pictures — and having as litUe to do with our thoughts, feelings,
ideas, as the Sphinx, the pyramids, or the Nile. On the contrary, she re-
gards them as men and women, of like passions as ourselves, with customs
and habits moulded and modified — as are the customs and habits of all
nations — by the imperious conditions of climate, soil, and government'*
For this reason Lady Gordon found herself at home in the strange land of
the Muslims, and learned greatly to respect and love a much abused
people. She was able to enter with sympathy into all that interested
them, and thus to discover how, under different forms and manners, there
can be expressed those pure thoughts and feelings which dwell in the minds
and hearts of human beings the wide world over. " Omar confided to me,"
she writes, " how bad he felt to be questioned, and then to see the English-
man laugh or put up his lip and say nothing." I don*t want to talk about
his religion at all, but if he talks about mine, he ought to speak of his own
too. You, my lady, say when I tell you things, ^ that is the same with us," or
that is different, or good, or not good in your mind ; and that is the proper
way, not to look like thinking — all nonsense.^'* .
I shall let^he following paragraphs tell their own story. .
ARAB CHIVALRY.
" I asked of Hasan, (fether of my donkey driver) " says Lady Qordon*
** if Abd-el-Kadir were coming here, as I had heard ; he did not know, and
asked me if he were not * Akhu-1-Benat,' (a brother of girls) ? I prosadcally
said I did not know if he had sisters. * The Arabs, O Lady ! call that man
a 'brother of girls,' to whom God has given a clean heart to love all women
as his sisters, and strength and courage to fight for their protection.' "
ARAB MANNERS.
" I heard a curious illustration of Arab manners to-day. I met Hasan,
the janisary of the American Consulate, a very respectable good man. He
told me he had married another wife since last year. I asked, What for ? "
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262 The Radical.
" It was the widow of his brother, who had always lived in the same
house with him, like one femily, and who died leaving two boys. She is
neither young nor handsome, but he considered it was his duty to provide
for her and her children, and not to let her marry a stranger. So you see
that polygamy is not always sensual indulgence ; and a man may thus
practice greater sacrifice than by talking sentiment about deceased wives*
sisters. I said, laughing, to Omar, as we went on, that I do not think the
two wives sounded very comfortable. * Oh, no ! not comfortable at all for
the man, but he take care of the woman ; that is what is proper. That is
good Muslim.^ '*
DELICATE RULES OF ETIQUETTE.
"It is almost impossible," says the Review^ " for us EngUsh folk
thoroughly to understand the delicate rules of etiquette which govern the
relations of sexes in the East For instance, it is quite shocking for a
mairied woman to speak of her * husband.* She must talk of him as the
* master,' * my lord,* or * father of my son.* On the other hand, a man
never mentions his wife to another man ; but there is no impropriety in his
discussing the mOst sacred and secret subjects of conjugal life with a woman.
As her faithful servant Omar expressed it : * Of course, I do not speak
of my harem to English gentlemen ; but to good lady can speak it* **
A RADICAL SERMON I By the Sheikk Yoosuf among the graves of
Luxor,
" Yoosuf pointed to the graves — * Where are all those people ? * and
to the ancient temples, * Where are those who built them ? Do not
strangers from a fair country take away their very corpses to wonder at ?
What did their splendor avail them ? etc. etc. What, then, O Muslims,
will avail that you may be happy when that comes which will come for all ?
Truly God is just and will defraud no man, and he will reward you if you
do what is right, and that is to wrong no man, neither in his person, nor in
his family, nor in his possessions. Cease then to cheat one another^ O men /
and to be greedy ; and do not think that you can make amends by after-
wards giving alms, or praying or fasting, or giving gifts to the servants of
the mosques. Benefits come from God; it is enough for you if you do not
do injury to any man^ and, above all, to any woman or little one ! * **
Civilization 3Y Oppression. — " is my neighbor, and he comes in
and we discuss the government. His heart is sore with disinterested
grief for the sufferings of the people. * Don't they deserve to be decently
governed — to be allowed a little h^piness and prosperity ? they are so do-
cile, so contented ; are they not a good people ? * These were his words
as he was recounting some new iniquity. Of course, half these acts are done
under the pretext of improving and civilizing, and the Europeans applaud
and say, * Oh, but nothing could be done without freed labor,* and the poor
Fellaheen are marched off in gangs like convicts, and their families starve,
and (who would have thought it ?) the population keeps diminishing. No
wonder the cry is, * Let the English Queen come and take us.* You know I
don't see these things quite as our countrymen generally do, for mine is
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Social Science Association. ^63
another Standpunkt^ and my heart is with the Arabs. I care less about
opening up the trade with the Soodan, or about all the new Railways^ and
I should like to see person and property safe, which no one's is here, —
Europeans of course excepted." '
Righteous Indignation. — I have received the following Tmes from a
friend. As an expression of righteous indignation (begging pardon in ad-
vance of all tailors in all parts of our re-constructing country, for whom I
have entire respect, and would not for a moment class with them a man
who got, by virtue of an assassination, his opportunity for mischief,) I
endorse them and oflfer them, for an enlightenment, to the one person who
at this time could serve his country best, by quickly heeding the advice they
proffer.
TAILORING.
Poor Crackers' breeches down in Tennessee
Might well by Andy reconstructed be ;
His patch could run against or with the grain,
Be cloth or shoddy — hold or rip again.
• No rotten bunting Freedom's flag can mend.
The piece must match, the fabric must not rend,
The stain must be effaced, the colors^ £ist,
To flap those stars again athwart the mast
There 'e not a ragged slave he can redress :
He cobble Freedom ! Ninth of manliness I
The sceptre drop, the goose resume, and flee
Wh%re breeches wait, but let the banner be.
. PER TRIBULATIONES PERFECTUM.
0 WEARY flesh and soul, what profit thee
Thy toil by day, long vigils of the night?
Lo ! the hard battle for the Truth and Right ,
Pays only wounds for promised victory. t
Such voice from out my worn and fainting heart:
And the Lord's Angel answered — Nay: but ill
Thou dost interpret God's omniscient will.
These but the signs wherewith He owns thy part
Among His saints the cross, the hemlock-cup,
Alone the Anointed bear, that Truth may know
Her suffering is her triumph: suffering so,
Thy wounds are victory, thy toil is rest
Shamed, my listless hands their strength took up:
1 said — Yea, flesh and soul, not weary thou, not blest
Georgb Howison.
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THE TRYSTING PLACE.
Canft thou by searckif^find ottt Gcdt
A Friend have I, true lover of my soul,
Whose lightest word to me is dearer far
Than any treasure' which the dark earth hokls>
Or any beauty of the morning star.
When day is on my heart he enters in
And crowns it with the brightness of his grace;
But more I joy when night envelopes me,
To feel his presence though I miss his face.
But there are times when foolish love of self
So girdles me as with a wall of flame,
That should he seek me he would find me not,^
Nor answer get if he should call my name.
And other times when open to his feet
The doors of my poor house as quickly swing
As if I were a peasant, and the friend
For whom I waited had been bom a king.
Thus coming once when I was at my best.
He said, "My friend, I would not have thee roam;
Dost long to see me? Go about thy work.
And I will come and visit thee at home."
And I in love with all his noble wajrs.
Feeling that he in nothing could do wrong.
Assented, saying, " Even so I will ;
But quickly come, and make thy visit long,
"That I may speak with thee of hidden things.
Tell thee alike of all my joy and pain,
And feel thy freshness all my spirit through.
As summer's roses feel the summer rain."
And then we parted ; but another day
Had not passed over me before the crowd
Began to laugh at me and call me fool,
With here and there a voice that cried aloud.
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The Trysting Placee. 265
"Come seek with us for him who is your friend."
And I was weak enough to them obey,
And follow them, despite my better thought,
For many a night and many a weary day.
We found him not, though ever and anon
His name we read in books that were of Old,
Which said that once his presence had J>een sweet,
That he would come and tenderly enfold
To his warm heart some man of humble birth,
And talk with him in language just as mild
As that which any mother might repeat
Above the cradle of her little child.
And then I said, "This glory must be mine;
Wtith less than this I cannot be content ; "
So left the crowd to seek him as they would,
And to my home with eager feet I went
And what to find? My friend awaiting me.
Here in his place as he had been before;
And down I sank as if it ought to be
That he my friend would be my friend no more.
But he, as if, no beggar for his grace,
I came of right into his presence fair,
Lifted me up and from my speechless face
Put back the masses of my tangled hair.
And kissed me once and kissed me twice again,
And said, "Not greater is thy need of me,
Than is my need, although it seemeth not.
Of living and communing still with thee."
My words are false, my thoughts are very true :
My friend was God, and ever by his grace,
Although by searching I can find him not.
My soul doth serve us for a trysting place.
John W. Cuaowick.
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SOCIAL SCIENCE ASSOCIATION.
The regular monthly meeting of the Boston Social Science Association
was held on Thursday evening, 8th inst., in the Warren Street Chapel, the
president, George B. Emerson, Esq., in the chair.
After the reading of the records. Dr. Edward Jarves, of Dorchester, read
a paper on the connection between cooking and health, and what a cook
book should be. Dr. Jarves began by speaking of the necessity imposed
upon all animals, of renewing by food the waste of flesh, muscle, brain and
bone constantly going on in their systems. He then in a very interesting
manner described the process by which food is digested in the stomach,
aerated in the lungs, purified in the heart, and then driven by that organ to
perform its functions as blood in all parts of the body, and supply the con-
stant Waste.
The responsibility of purveyors and cooks in providing and preparing
food was next considered. The measure of man's life, the speaker said,
depended in a great degree upon the selection and preparation of his food ;
so that not only the strength of his limbs, but the vigor of his brain, and
even his emotions, were affected by his eating. A large number of the
cook books now published seemed calculated to pamper the appetite and
incite a love of good eating, rather than to promote healthy cookery. The
field of housekeeping afforded a wider scope for the exercise of ingenuity
than most of the avocations of men.
A discussion upon the training of cooks succeeded Dr. Jarves's essay.
Judge Wright asked Dr. Jarves for a more explicit statement of his opin-
ion in regard to the influence of food upon the mental faculties, remarking
that if food was at one end of the equation and intellect at the other, then a
wide field of thought was opened.
Dr. Jarves replied that he meant to convey the idea that improper nutri-
ment furnished poor material for cerebral substance — and therefore, if the
brain was, as is commonly supposed, the organ of thought, it could not per-
form its functions clearly and vigorously when the stomach, instead of being
the seat of strength, becomes the source of weakness. He would not say
that food was mind ; but he would say that it affected the organ through
which the mind acts ; and if the gentleman who had questioned him had
observed the influence of food upon dyspeptics and insane persons with as
much care as he had, he could have answered his own question.
Several other speakers gave their opinion upon the methods of mental
action, when Dr. Dio Lewis objected to the psychological turn which the
discussion had taken, and desired that the practical subject of a cooking
school should be taken up. Being called upon to give his own views, Dr.
Lewis urged the immediate establishment of a training school for cooks,
and reiterated his conviction that great relief could be immediately gained
by housekeepers paying more remunerative wages and thereby securing
more intelligent Cooks.
The discussion was continued for some time longer, a general desire ap-
pearing to prevail for the immediate trial of an experimental training
s cbool. — Boston A dvertiser.
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BOOK NOTICES.
History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism
IN Europe. By W. E. H. Leckv, M. A. In two volumes. New York :
D. Appleton & Co., 1866.
If the reader of these brilh'ant and learned volumes bears in mind the
limitations to which the author subjected his own research, there is hardly
a page that will not furnish satisfactory matter, either in fruitful suggestion
or curious information. The author's object, as stated in his Introduction,
was not to trace any class of definite doctrines or criticisms, " but rather a
certain cast of thought, or bias of reasoning, which has, during the las.t three
centuries, gained a marked ascendancy in Europe.'* So that although there
are several excellent developments of the rise and fall of doctrines, the
reader will not principally expect them, nor be disappointed when as, for
instance, in the absence of all details concerning modern German schools
of thought and criticism, he fails to find them. The book performs very
thoroughly the office of tracing the gradual civilization of human moods of
reflection and feeling ; rare books that have been forgotten, and obscure
episodes of the history of thought, are brought to light, and analyzed with
great distinctness ; some of the portraits of public men and scholars of past
ages, touches of persons, as of Savonarola, I, p. 260, are well done. A clear
and intelligent purpose reigns throughout. The author has travelled through
all the libraries of Europe, has haunted all the book-stalls on Paris Quais,
and the auctions at Rome ; and even in books that are already well known
to the world of scholars, as Bodin's and Bayle's, he finds new appositeness
to the times in which they were written as well as to the history of opinions.
The air of impartiality that is spread over every page, and the moderation
of the writer's statements, do not conceal his bias in politics and theology.
It is both republican and liberal. It is very seldom that he undertakes to
qualify or to resist the logical direction of the principles which he derives
from his careful study of the growth of Rationalism. One attempt of this
kind results, as might be expected, in a contradiction of the broader and
sounder view. Compare, for instance, I, 313, where he claims some origi-
nality for die moral element in Christianity, and refuses to find it in any
previous epoch of the mind, with II, 378, 379, where he emphasizes an opin-
ion that is more historically correct. He is sometimes confused in the use
of the term Christianity ; it may mean upon one page the pure moral ideal,
and upon another the development of dogmas. And upon p. 311, he attri-
butes to Religion marks of the decay which has affected Theology, and says
that in all other cases except Christianity, " the decay of dogmatic concep-
tions is tantamount to a complete annihilation of religion." Yet the two
volumes teem with the implication that Religion, as it underlies all dogmas^
survives in every age their dissolution.
Of minor errors, we notice that he fails to give upon p. 320, vol. i, the
true reason why that sect of Gnostics called Ophites, worshipped the ser-
pent.^ It was not because the serpent was the general emblem of healing
in the ancient symbolism, but for the reason that Genesis represents that
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268 The Radical.
reptile as introduciDg mankind to the true Gnosis, or knowledf!^ of good
and evil. It was therefore to be venerated rather than despised.
We object to a vagueness in the author's use of his favorite phrase, " the
progress of civilization." It is with him a force that accounts for every-
thing, brings all ameliorations to pass, and supersedes the necessity for
books and arguments. See this criticism justified on pages 196, 335, voL i.
The author takes great pains to make us acquainted with an old province
of speculation ; he ransacks the books and pamphlets, he gives a lively pre-
sentation of the contest of thoughts with dogmas, and of moral feeling with
theological preconceptions. Yet he generally winds up with affirming that
as no man was ever converted by an argument, so the world has not im-
proved in consequence of the printed and spoken appeals of its foremost
minds. These have been nothing but the straws upon a mighty current
that was running before they dropped into it, and that receives no increase
of momentum, no rectitude of direction, as they impinge upon it No book,
no reasoning, no access of intelligence^ avails. But civilization was the
cause of all. It is pertinent to demand of the author to explain the cause
of civilization. In his hands it is exhibited as a pantheistic force, and his
curious labor in tracing the mental protests of an enlightened minority in
every age against the overwhelming drift of the age's partial intelligence, is
either superfluous, or, what is worse, confirmatory evidence that the drift
or force was with ignorance and not with civilization. The author seems
to dread to accord a radical influence to the very books and men whom he
admires, to the very defeats and mart3rrdoms which win his reverence, to
the very arguments whose invincible persuasion he extols. Like Buckle,
he appears to be eager to refer all progress to an indefinite, ameliorating,
remoulding power of an abstractly growing intelligence, to a gradual dis-
appearance df ignorance, to the slow refining of manners, to new inventions,
customs, tools, social expedients, to the preponderance of common sense*
But what has fed this process and built up this common sense ? Every
clear and righteous book, every protesting thought in speech and action,
every movement of every minority, every temporary defeat and arrest of the
superior reflection. A method of judgment, based upon the intuitive sense
of right, that rejects or throws into the [background every doctrine, no
matter how authoritative, if it lacks the authority of reason, was once very
rare, and is now very common. The fact cannot be accounted for by the
indefinite remark that these right opinions are "entirely due to the in-
creased difiusion of a rationalistic spirit, and not at all to any active propa-
gandism or to any definite arguments." As well might we say that a victory
has been won, not by superior generalship and by the direct application of
the science and instruments of war, but by the tendency of one party to be
defeated by the other. The " progress of civilization " is a Force, indeed ;
and Mr. Lecky, notwithstanding the nervous disclaimers of his general
phrases, shows us, as few men have yet shown, with such scholarship, such
liberality and moral boldness, such a clear and simple method, what are the
elements which nourish this Force, concentrate it and apply it to appropri-
ate tasks ? When the historian of opinion has amassed all his particulars,
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Book Notices. 269
he need not summon a phrase to reabsorb them, in dread of tfatir separation
from the movement and influx of the Infinite Mind. They are all the more
distinct, personal and providential because they are responsible to the Force
of forces, which makes through them its creating and regenerating gestures.
Let us keep a sharp eye upon our phrases and definitions. The naturalist
assumes his " vital force," and is no nearer to the secret " Phlogiston "
helps the chemist as much as ** Civilization " does the historian. It is bet-
ter to collect the facts, with such painstaking and scholarly attainment as
Mr. Lecky shows, and let them tell their own story ; they will never be able
to suggest a true Philosophy so long as the mind is pre-occupied by the
glib and cheap phrases that drop from hurried pens.
But we do not mean to imply that Mr. Lecky's pen has moved hurriedly
through the stages of his great journey. Seldom have so many subjects of
importance, that can hardly receive in two moderate volimies much more
than mention and a sparing anal3rsis, been touched so iaithfuUy. His style
is entirely devoted to statement and explanation ; if the page expands, the
rhetoric is strictly subordinated to the subject The reader has left a period
or a controversy before he has had time to appreciate how well it was di-
gested by the author. This is especially the case with the chapter " Upon
the Secularization of Politics ;" and it is in this that Mr. Lecky gives credit
distinctly to prominent books and discussions for creating an influence ; he
concedes that they were constituent elements of the progress of civilization.
Here, too, occurs one among his numerous fine statements of a truth or an
aspect of opinion. We refer to his graceful illustration of the surprise and
delight of the human judgment, during the restoration of letters, when it
was confronted with the unveiled master-pieces of antiquity ; he makes us
understand what part they played in separating theology from politics, and
in nourishing the idea of liberty, (ii. 195.) It was, perhaps, the most
difficult portion of his task to write this chapter, yet it is, evidently, his fa-
vorite theme, upon which he has expended great research and considerable
enthusiasm. The subject of Witchcraft is much more easy to handle ; the
phenomena are more dramatic and nearer to the surface, and the authorities
have generally been looked up before. But the chapter that recites the de-
velopment of patriotism and democracy is handled in a way to make it a
new subject
Quite equal to this in interest is the chapter upon the " Industrial History
of Rationalism," where the author traces the development of labor and com-
merce, the changes of opinion relating to Usury, to intemsCtional trade, to
Political Economy ; the decline of Slavery, the revival of the Theatre, and
the secularization of Music, and the modern tendency toward the doctrine
of Utility in life and of Materialism in speculation. But in closing this
chapter, together with his task, Mr. Lecky complains that the spirit of Ra-
tionalism has brought in, with all its splendid benefits, a marked decline in
self-sacrifice and the appreciation of the religious aspect of human nature.
We cannot concede Uiis. Self-sacrificing men now devote themselves to
the life-long wasting of a moral cause or a Christian charity, instead of to
the fleeting anguish of the stake. They pass through years of opprobrium
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270 The Radical.
and contempt for the sake of religion, instead of through one fiery moment
for the sake of theology. They brave the mobs of respectability and stand-
ing, and receive the brand of hate upon the quivering heart, for the sake of
the little ones whom policy oppresses. Their bodies are not tortured, but
their sensibilities, their longing to be loved and esteemed, to share the
common sympathy, are racked. The mental repose in which a gifted nature
succeeds to its finest mastery of every tool and impulse, is torn apart by the
wild horses of the public passion, spite, fear, avarice and self-reproach, which
pull at the four comers of the just man's house, to hide in its ruins the
beautiful ideal that so accuses and enrages. The stake and the torture-
chamber, where erroneous opinions were plucked away piece-meal to glut
the animosity of theologians, were merciful compared with the democratic
fangs that fasten upon the body of religion, forever tearing what has the fatal
power to be forever repaired. If Mr. Lecky had lived in passionate Amer-
ica during the last thirty years instead of the England that, even when it
hates and ostracises, seldom transgresses the limits of respectability, and
ignores rather than persecutes the saints of Truth, his closing sentences
would breathe a keener and more invigorating air, suffused, as they would
have been, with the unspoken names and memories of many martyrs.
Therefore we declare that the crowning benefit of the development of the
spirit of Rationalism is that it releases all the moral and spiritual ideals
from the captivity of theology, and lets loose their penetrating fascinations,
unveiled, to dazzle and subdue all noble souls. Mr. Lecky finds Material-
ism in Schopenhauer and Buchner ; he might have added many other names
of more scientific and instructed men, but he would not thereby confirm his
inference that the emancipation of the human Reason conducts mankind to
depreciation of religious truths and to denial of their immortality. He might
as well infer from the delusions of Millerism, Mormonism, Spirit-rapping,
and the like, that a liberated Reason fosters more errors than it extin-
guishes. He writes on this point like a man who knows altogether too
much about a decaying social system, whose public policy is nothing but
doggedness and inertia — a bureaucratic temper that breeds its opposite
of fickle and ill-considered opinion, and calls out of the popular mind petty
denials of great truths, or spasmodic affirmations of them, instead of a
broad, genial and irresistible regard. Such is European and English soci-
ety. The advance of Rationalism to a more thorough and unsparing dissi-
pation of the fogs that cling around the outlines of Religion, will regenerate
these countries by giving them over eventually to the popular heart, which
has preserved, through all the disappointments and reverses of a thousand
years, the moral thoughts and tendencies of the Creator. j. w.
Vestiges of the Spirit-History of Man. By S. F. Dunlap. Mem-
ber of the American Oriental Society, New Haven. D. Appleton & Co.
New York: 1858.
Sod, the Mysteries of Adoni. By S. F. Dunlap. London : 1861.
Sod, the Son of the Man. By S. F. Dunlap. London : 1861,
We do not know whether these volumes have ever been noticed in any
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Book Notices. 271
American periodical : but tliey are of such a character that, we venture to
say, if any of the leading and fashionable magazines undertook to bring
them to the attention of readers, brevity would be consulted.
We will consult brevity, however, merely for want of room. And we
have to affirm that these volumes are very rich in suggestive matter for the
scholar and thinker. Mr. Dunlap has brought together a great mass of
allusions, quotations and references, to illustrate his theory that all the
religions of the world have been gradually developed, one out of the other,
and that a few simple ideas have struggled, from the beginning of human
feeling and reflection, to become embodied in worship and practice. He
has read a vast number of books in different languages, and has amassed
citations from them to show what the Orientals, the classical nations, and
the savages of almost every tribe and race, have believed on the subject of
Spirits, Gods, the Invisible world, the elements of Nature. Sun-worship,
Fire-worship, the Cosmogonies of India, Persia, Greece, Syria, the different
theories of the divine nature, all meet upon the profusely annotated pages
of his volumes. He brings to light obscure passages from books that have
been little read, and places them side by side with well-known texts from
different portions of the Bible, to show the analogies between the human
thinking that has been widely separated in time and place. Indeed his vol-
umes are hardly more than elaborate parallelism of passages from all
quarters.
Mr. Dunlap has not sufficiently worked out his own conjectures. His
theory of development is lost in the wonderful results of his scholarship
and acquaintance with authorities. As books of reference, these volumes
are invaluable to a person who is well-disposed towards a rational and
scientific theory of Religion, and who wishes to use the parallelism which
Mr. Dunlap has tried to construct. But it must be used with caution : for
the author sometimes is carried away by a mere verbal resemblance, as in
some of the cases where he matches texts from the New Testament with
old classical hints of the Mysteries. We have no doubt that the most
ancient tendencies of thought survhved for a long time, and colored and
penetrated the later religious expressions. The modes of feeling which lay
beneath the mysteries and the forms of Orgiastic worship, beneath the
adoration of the sun, the stars, the light, those which have inspired the
various ideas of Sacrifice, Atonement, and Reconciliation, and have ap-
pealed in the* mediation of divine women as well as divine men, from Ceres
and Dionysus downward, passed from place to place, from age to age, from
a decaying to a renovated worship, and have mingled with Christianity
itself. But we want to have it shown more definitely and compactly, with
more discrimination in the collocation of passages. The author should
help his learned instances by breathing-places of his own speculation, to
show why he brings them together, and to justify their use. He has left
too much to the independent research of the reader ; so that now another
volume from the same pen is needed to be a summary of the real force of
this great heap of literary allusions.
Mr. Dunlap has confided too much in the good-will and ability of the
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272 The Radical.
public. They will certainly take advantage of it to stigmatize his volumes
as rubbish that is heretical when it is explicable, and superfluous through-
out The scholar will value them because they bring under his eye hints
and notices that are scattered through a dozen languages, and in many
books that are not generally accessible. He will delight to roam, as in a
library, through their generously furnished pages ; but he will become a
little jaded by the absence of method.
Let Mr. Dunlap, in another volume, give us the substance of these three,
carefully fortified by his own conjecture, distilled by discussion, and he will
increase the obligation of his readers. He ought to state in plain language,
unencumbered with learning, what are the ideas, or the moods of feeling,
which one cultus has transmitted to another, what are the natural grounds
from which they spring, what temporary exigencies they have served, and
how much of them may survive legitimately to enter into any future wor-
ship or philosophy of religion. As it is, his volumes exhibit a good many
striking coincidences, but do not show how the development of human in-
telligence drops, or modifies, or preserves and improves, the conceptions
which the old world had fa the presence of Nature and in the depths of
consciousness. Mr. Lecky shows how scholarship may be wedded to a
vigorous ^d genial discussion, during which the gradations of moral and
intellectual ideas become plainly marked, and most instructively unfolded.
Mr. Dunlap's learning is more remote from the sympathy of modem times,
but equally capable of being reduced to a free and flowing expression.
J. w.
The next number of this Magazine will be devoted mainly to a
consideration of public affairs. But I cannot let the. present num-
ber go to press, knd not occupy the space that is yet left by put-
ting down what I believe to be the truest word that can be uttered.
America was never, threatened by so appalling a danger as now.
Never before was so mucl) power lodged in the hands of a Presi-
dent of this country, with the disposition, openly declared, to use
• it for evil. President Johnson is a bold, dangerous man. He
is animated by a spirit kindred with that which inspired the rebel-
lion. The foes of liberty throughout the land have claimed him from
the beginning. TA^y knew their own. This is no time to pour
oil on the troubled waters. The battle is to be fought out. Not
yet^is * LIBERTY victorious' ! Nor will it be — Men and Women
of America — while there remains a public man or party, to ques-
tion the principles of the Republic. The time to discuss those
principles has passed. God and humanity now demand their ap-
plication ! Editor.
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THE RADICAL.
APRIL, 1866.
PRINCIPLES.
BY JOHN WEISS.
THERE are certain great principles whicb have the same pur-
poses m ihe human mind as great laws serve in the system of
nature, to secure safety, utility, growth, unity, progression, the
manifestation of God. We are often obliged to recognize individual
men by their defects, as they fail to interpret and to embody in an ade-
quate manner the essential properties of their own being. Still, we
can never be mistaken about those properties. They belong to
mankind ; they compose the substantial part of a properly developed
human being, and support his dignity. Many a skeleton may be
xlefonned, but yet there is an essential architecture of the bony parts
which keeps man in his erect attitude, with his face turned towards
the light of -heaven. Principles hold the divine image together and
buil4 it up in the direction of the Creator.
Has necessity of principles does not depend upon the varying and
interested judgments of men. Nor do they derive their vitality from
favorable majorities of individuals, to sink into weakness when men
have been defeated, or find poor reasons to withdraw their support.
But they are the parts of a Healthy human soul just as much when all
souls deny and betray them as when they are acknowledged and en-
joyed. Looking at history, we are sometimes deceived into sajdng
that principles belong to different periods, and are created by circum-
sstances ; that they are not the life of the imiversal man, but the exi-
gencies of an occasion, and owe as much to interest as to the divine
necessity. When, for instance, ve contemplate whole nations Kving
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374 '^he Radical.
contentedly without liberty of conscience, we sometimes admit, the
reflection whether after all liberty of conscience is not the luxury of
the foremost minds, and essential only in a highly developed society.
When we observe that whole races of inferior people can enjoy a very
fair degree of content which even bubbles up into exhilaration, we
are tempted to modify our generous assumption that personal freedom
is a necessity for all men. Let them be disfranchised ; it is scarcely
a temporary inconvenience. Let them continue to cower beneath
the ban of a vulgar opinion. They have trained their spirits to cor-
respond to it; they acquiesce, they never breathed a balmier air. Even
if slavery become abolished, let as many of its practical elements be
retained as possible, remembering that the daily food of a slave was
often fatter than the daily food of pauper freemen ; and some men
can live by bread alone. What is the need of being perfectly just to
men who appear to be content with bread ?
So many laws of health can be violated without the utter destruc-
tion of cheerfulness, so many rights can be withheld without plunging
the oppressed into despair, so many lies can appear to serve the pur-
pose of the moment as well as more expensive and far-fetched truths,
that we sometimes fall into the scepticism of thinking that truths are
relative and not absolute ; that the normal idea of justice, for instance,
as it exists in the spiritual mind, may be qualified many degrees from
its pure strength, and then administered to the body politic with a
better chance of preserving the health, with less danger of intoxication
and excess. That, in fine, justice is fit for man when man is fit for
justice, and not before ; that, in other words, principles do not create
individuals, reform their barbarism, purge their systems of all malig-
n^t humors, control and penetrate the whole intelligence with the
pulse of sanity ; but when individuals have become thus Regenerated,
clothed and restored to their right mind, principles may be admitted
without qualification and with impunity. It is the same as saying
that something else besides observance of the laws of health can raise
a man to his highest physical state, and hold him there. Such phi-
losophy would leave the imperfect, the suffering and the oppressed,
to acquire liberty and intelligence by b^ing kept in the conditions
that have been always fatal to those qualities. It is a philosophy that
makes the statu quo its element of redemption. Is a whole people
pining beneath reactionary despotism, with its best municipal usages
invaded, its freest minds exiled, and the very voice of its complaint
regulated by police, this condition is the best for educating them for
freedom. Are whole tribes and nations held in the durance of bar-
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Principles. 275
barism, because their rulers dread to let loose the barbarity ndiich
they have maintained by law, still, we hear it said that barbarism
prepares such people best for the enlargement of their liberties* As if
you should tie a child hand and foot preparatory to its first lesson in
walking, or as if, dreading the consequences of his first tottering and
swaying gait, you should hold a limb in each hand and glue every
footstep to the ground. Divine truth may say to every generation^
" Stand fast in the liberty wherewith I make you fi-ee, and be not
entangled again with the yoke of bondage ; " the world's philosophy
inverts the text, and at every epoch thinks it less dangerous and more
expedient to say, " keep entangled with the yoke of bondage a little
all the time, that you may stand fast by and by in liberty." The
texts which embody every divine principle are thus inverted ; the
wisdom that cometh from above is judged to be too bold in having
supposed that truth is the health of man, that injustice can be rem-
edied by justice, that impurity can be overcome by purity, that ignor-
ance and darkness will disappear at the coming of the simple and
ingenuous morning. And the whole practice of the world accuses
Christ of rashness when he stood in the midst of a generation that
was, by his own confession, an evil and adulterous one, and thus not
to be trusted with progressive sentiments, and said that the divine
Spirit was upon him to heal the bro|^en-hearted, to preach deliverance
to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty
them that are bruised. What organizing, regenerating, liberating
words ! What faith in God that his wisdom was far-seeing and delib-
erate ^en he framed man to have his heart whole, his body free, his
spirit unconfined, his limbs unbruised ! What faith in man, that his
soul could bear to be reminded of heavenly truth, and to be brought
back, without danger, to its own first principles. Where should justice
stand and speak, if not in an evil and adulterous generation ? The
whole need not a physician. Adulterous authority rejects the spot-
less form of truth which God destined to be its consort, to sit upon
an equal throne, whence the glances of power might mingle with the
rays of conviction, and justify all men in obedience by itself obeying
perfect justice. Authority that stoops to mingle itself with the forms
that minister to its momentary passions, is adulterous I T is the
plainest and most justifiable use of language. It is an adulterous
authority when the men who wield it sneer at the law which imites
power with perfect justice, and when all faith in the health of the
golden rule is gone.
The elements of barbarism will not accept^ to their own hurt^ the
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ij6 The Radical.
elements of justice. The undeveloped man shritiks in terror and
reaction from truths that do not recommend themselves by flattering
his state. " What have I to do with thee, thou pure and piercinf
justice? " But the healdi^^ving, uncompromising truth cannot cease
to afflict him without becoming in its turn possessed with lies. ^ I
charge thee, thou foul spirit, to come out of him." That is the true
voice of reconstruction, penetrated with faith in die harmlessness of
principles, and not intimidated by the bitter and hostile reluctance
with which the body surrenders its disease. God welcomes the pro-
longation of resistance which proclaims that fab truth is measuring
itself with a lie.
Why should we be so blind as to expect that any solution of any
question that involves the truth of God should be final, unless it vin-
dicates and establishes that truth I Is it possible to conceive of any
new condition which can make the regular experience of history
obsolete, and secure for us a peace which does not flow out of the
victoxy of divine ord^, drawn from the original thoughts of God
instead of from the practices of man ? Can you read a p^e of the
past which will authorize you to hifer that the conflict of truth with
error can be hushed up^ adjusted, and arranged to the permanent
satisfaction of all the parties ? That truth can defer so much to error^
and error reluctantly relinquish so much to trudi, as to calm the
agitations of interest on one hand and justice on the other ? Can the
cunning of man devise a truce that shall keep the justice of God and
the selfishness of man in positions of mutual, inviolable respect?
Sooner hope to find that the whole system of nature exists without its
own essential laws, and that organization can hold a divided sceptre
with destruction.
God has anticipated for truth nothing but an imequivocal victory,
and for error nothing but hiuniliatioiL '^ Be ye not unequally yoked
together with unbelievers ; for what fellowship hath righteousness with
unrighteousness, and what communion hath light with darkness, and
what concord hath Christ with Belial ? or what agreement hath the
temple of God with idols ? Wherefore come out from among them,
and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing :
and I will receive you." Yes, to the simplicity of that speech all the
complications of history at last must come ; for until a man can find
room in his own heart for lust and chastity, for meanness and honor^
ibr self and God, no social state can hold together private conscience
and official dogmatism, the plots of treason and the heart of freedom.
^t have four years of war convinced America that a principle is
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Principles. 277
aii OTganic necessity of mati ? We are not yet prepared to liberate
the golden rule from its captivity among our choice abstractions, and
to send it forth to do the work of God. It is still clear that we
cling to the distinction between a spiritual standard of justice and a
practical application of it • and it is by means of that falsity that
smooth politicians and manufacturers of rhetorical commonplaces
]»rolong the diseases for which they pretend to bring a remedy. The
universe lies balanced and harmonibus in the hand of immutable law;
an atom will revolve securely around its neighboring atom, and a
planet, with its freight of immortal lives, will obey the same decree.
When the sods loosen beneath the steps of the spring wind, I shall
take up again the fragile stem on which the bells of the lily of the
valley nod ; and as I consider them, to reward me for that gentle
deference, they will remind me that God's finger still shapes their
cunres, which have not changed from the beginning, and that the jsoil
is still chartered to, yidd up to them perennial fragrance. The Cre-
ator's original devices preserve the strength and biauty of His worid.
And shall my soul be less constant to the laws of its salvation than
this himible lily to the constitution of its race? And can I ever let
into my heart the infidelity which presumes that after God's finger
has formed my substance to respond to divine truth, as the singing
reed answers to the lip of the musician, I may permit here the discord
of a law which is not His own, and attempt to live at variance with
my health ? •
Then let the laws of our moral nature proceed to do their appro-
priate work, each taking an unswerving line in the direction of its
ol^ect We cannot serve two masters. If God has ordained that
liberty of conscience developes the religious powers, and excites man
to a true sense of his relations with the invisible, we may spare our
nervous terrors, and keep our hands steady, while we clear the path
of the soul from all impediments. If it be an ordinance of God that
freedom of the person and freedom of his labor, and a share of every
civic advantage, puts into the soul comer-stones of truth, intelligence
and happiness, and secures for the word commonwealth an incalcula-
ble richness of expression, then serve the ordinance. If it be a
decree of God that peace is the result of organizing principles, and
safety the consequence of having dared to believe in truth, then call
nothing else peace, and expect to be disappointed in every other kind
of safety; "for what concord hath Christ with Belial?" It is our
peculiar dignity to be able ^ to see the Creator's necessary principles
which secure the greatest happiness of all. Let us fix our eyes also
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upon that happiness, and be willing to resign present tranquillity for
the sake of serving one Master, who conducts his children through all
the agonies of history into promised lands.
A nation suffering from neglected sin, is governed by the same laws
which restore a vicious man : there must Be a revolution in the wh(^e
of his nature, and a determination no longer to compromise with the
unclean thing. He must put the whole of it down — or it will put
the whole of him down. If any man begins to recur to the ideas that
possibly, in some way, the antagonism may after all be adjusted, and
health and disease flow in the same veins with even tide, let him
throw them away, as they are part of the country's sin. His want of
absolute sincerity upon this point prolongs our unsettled condition.
And if you wish to see the man who is an enemy of his own people's
freedom, point to him whose ideas of freedom have been as good as
anybody's, but who has not been ready to take them in his right hand
and carry them to the utmost Point to the man who is not heart
and soul committed to the great idea which makes a republic : who
lets his old prejudices control him at the critical moment when his
compatriots shrink before the reawakening strategy of the Rebellion ;
who ventures to make any other thought prominent except the
thought of attacking at every point, and in every method the spirit
that is now expecting to become again, through miserable compli-
ance, a portion of the country's life. If you wish to see the enemy
in your midst, point to him who A nds objections to acting with
men who have been always willing to be mobbed, to be hated, to be
struck down for freedQm. What are the ulterior objects nourished by
men who have been willing to feel the rage of ignorant opinion, that
should prevent us from sustaining them with hearts over which the
unity of freedom has swept, to obliterate all hatreds and political dis-
tinctions ! If the ulterior object to make liberty predominate, and to
represent the glory of a disenthralled people, be wrong, then sympathy
with liberty is wrong, and her advocates may be deserted. But if all
history teaches us that God expresses himself through men whose
faces shine with the foremost principles, and that any man who has a
great idea at a great moment, is the man for God's work, then it be-
comes a much chastened people, laying aside every difference, to rally
around appointed instruments, to rush and help hold up the shield on
which the soldiers have just lifted liberty, that she may be borne
through the land in triiunph to her place of power. Yes — this is the
moment to test the quality of our republican professions ; those who
are willing to bring forth the fruits of liberty will enter into a bond of
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Principles. 279
ttnity and fraternity, and, like the crew upon a foundering deck, ren-
der absolute obedience to the only power that can save.
What a generous emotion it was which brought money and soldiers
to support the majesty of law ; but do we also feel a principle within,
confirmed and clarified by sorrow, devoting us to the great cause,
keeping us steadfut after the glow of our victories and charities has
passed away, holding us to the service of unity for the sake of Free-
dom ! Let us not be deceived by an era of good feeling. The re-
bellious spirit expects that we have exhausted ourselves upon those
great campaigns. We must disa^^oint that expectation, and con-
tinue to confotmd the cunning of our enemy, by a love of liberty
standing' in our soul at the side of oiu* belief in God, and as soon ta
be shaken : a principle as vital as our religion, and as hostile to ini-
quity — a part of our honor, yes, of our immortality — rooted in the life
of every indfvidual, concentrated in the united action of all. Let
executive prejudice and patronage bring up its imity against such a
solid array of hearts. If God is with us, who can be against us I
Such a unity as this of which I speak, is the only conservative
position that is left to take, if a man will preserve this country, and
guide its course safely between the traitors and their s]rmpathizers.
We have heard somediing said about Northern treason. This has
alwa3rs been the treason of abolitioiiists, and this their want of patri-
otism, to reconstruct an Union for the sake of Freedom, and of the
ultimate triumph of human rights, both in the new world and in the
old. If that has been treason, — to be faithful to the organic idea of a^
republic, to save it fh>m passion on one side land servility on the
other, and to make the forces of a great country support and represent
its liberty, let us indeed continue to be treasonable, and make the
most of it It is treason to which divine truth invites us when it says^
** stand fast in liberty," "obey God rather than man," "render to God
the things that are God's." Yes, we take the glory of such a position,
and repel the insinuation of that word ; and we proclaim him the
traitor, whether he stands in pulpits or in the halls of debate, who
maintains that latent Rebellion has a right to power by the side of
Freedom. We might as well have seen the treason conquer by arms,
as prevail through servility. ^Vhat dreadful moment is this, when
preachers and public men gather the blood of your captains and your
soldiers into a cup, and proffer it, on bended knees, to the lips that
shouted when it was shed 1 Shall this blood be turned into a com-
mon puddle by the treacherous feet that steal through it into future
opportunities? Nothing to stand between this blood and desecration
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28o The Radical.
-—no guarantee, no inviolable securities, no sa£^uards for a hated
race — nothing but the oath of a few men, this year to be taken, —
next year to be broken ! Nothing for us to do, but to take our hands
off that are trying to staunch the ebbing vein, and throw our arms
¥ride open for a fraternal embrace, and leave the blood to run while
liberty feels that Judas-kiss upon her cheek ! Do public men count
upon deluding and amusing liberty with the execution of a prominent
traitor or two — expecting that her pure soul, sated with that useless
spectacle, will surrender her advantage. Rise up— rise up, ye men
and women, who fed the great battle of your country — the blood is
still fresh -*- it has not disappeaxed — it is above ground — it has not
yet sunk into the sod to nourish the verdure of Freedom. Rise up,
cuid brand with your unity, and at one glorious stroke, the name of
treason upon secret condition and secret sympathy with unconverted
rebels, and upon the forehead of every official person who talks about
the rights of the men who slew your children. Let the voice of die
American pulpit declare for unity, fraternity, a determined principle
of action. Thus only can we see a great country, the object of our
warmest love, rise in a form of regenerated beauty from the midst
of angry waters. The symmetry and charm of trudi will shine from
her countenance, and she will turn it, no longer distorted by conflict;'
ing emotions and troubled with a sense of degradation, full upon the
kingdoms of this world. Liberty, reflected from that majestic pres-
ence shall beam upon them ; misery shall leap up to recognize die
face of its salvation, and earth shall send up one acclaim of acknowl*
edgment that the great experiment has succeeded, and that a pure
republic is possible to men.
'^ And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the llg^t
of it : and the kings of the earth bring their ^ory and honor into it
And there shall in nowise enter into it anything that defileth, neither
whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie."
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CONCERNING THE NATION'S SOUL.
IT must not be regarded a mere fancy to affirm that nations have
souls. Nor is it to be counted an easy task for a nation to save
its soul aUoe; ke^ it just and free, and so always omnipotent.
Every person's private experience offers testimony to this fact The
struggle with the tempters, poverty, wealth, luxury, lust of power, &c.,
for the mastery over them, is of long duration, and is made more diffi-
<^ult and perilous with each new, even the triflingest, siurender. Nev-
ertheless, a Soul every representative nation must have and save ; a
controlling sentiment — a central principle — a commanding one-
idea. All of national character is thus formed. There are familiar
illustrations from history. The Hebrew Soul was dedicated to the
affirmation of One God ; the Greek Soul flamed into its life in the
presence of Beauty, Philosophy, Science ; the Roman Soul was crys-
talized into a code of Law.
It is the purpose of this article to consider the nature of our Amer-
ican Soul, and the manner in which we are saving it
'i. Most Americans find themselves, at one time or another, gravely
pondering the fact that there are dead nations, as there are dead lan-
guages ; and are concerned to kitow if their number is to be increased.
Like every people gone before, we are zealous for the fame of a long
life. Nay, more than that, we are not willing to number our days — our
centuries, even — at all. This idea of National perpetuity triumphed
over rebellion. It is, notwithstanding this fact, a fair question :
must we finally go the way of the other nations ? Do their trouble-
some ghosts haunt America's dream of Immortality with good right?
One does not concede any good purpose in the plan, nor readily be-
lieve that civilization travels forever in its circle, and gains nothing by
repeating the journey, in height or breadth. We may console our-
selves with the reflection that it is our mistake to prophecy of the
future simply from experience in the past For the altered and ad-
vanced condition of affairs in the present time, the old examples lose
somewhat of their pertinency. There b the difficulty of drawing what
is termed the legitimate inference. The comparison may fail. To
read the future in the past, we have to reflect upon kn<^n facts and
experiences, and be wise enough to anticipate their product In this
manner history may be written forwards as well as backwards. It is
prophecy drawn from accredited facts and discovered laws. If we
would have the law of universal progress in the world revealed, we
must recognize the many and constant assurances of the unity of the
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whole race, the continuity and conseqnent sacredness of all history,
and thus gain our view of it all as of one moyement
Thus viewing afEdrs, it does not appear that there has hitherto
been ordered any advance of the entire grand army of humanity at
«Qcei generation succeeding generation in a continuous and equal
movement But by the conducth^; of separate and distinctive cam-
pa^s, for seemingly unrelated ends, the general progress has been
secured ; each division (so to speak) independendy fighting its own
battie — a battie never to be repeated, and fought not within one,
two, or seven days, but dosing, perchance, only witii the lapse of cen-
turies, its hard won victory evermore to be the heritage of the eaitiu
for of no people of eminent national characteristics can it be said,
they have been lost in death. What is fairly won once, is won for all
lime; is henceforth a permanent factor in die worid's character.
Failure only is transient The Hebrew's legacy, the legacy of fbe
Greek and Roman, are imperishable wealth for mankind Their
Souls go '^ marching on." These different nations seem to have had
their so decidedly marked nationalities, that they might as result be
able to lay upon the altar of humanity their special gifts, from whkh
should at length be fashioned in rounded completeness human char-
acter. Each had its own idea to make immortal. By divine decree
it must " hammer away '' at that until its work was done. The union
of these ideas, thus brought forth by the travail of the nations, must
shape the civilization that shall characterize the future. *
Thus may be traced manifestations of a controlling Supreme Will,
working in humanity under a law of development : *' the whc^ race
being as one man who never retreats, but b alwajrs advancing toward
perfection." The same manifestations are seen in the preparation of
the earth itself for the reception of man. He could not be bom until
first, by successive chemical changes, the vegetable kingdom was
formed, and then, by continued advancements, the possibilities of
animal life were reached. And then the human form must be ti&e
product of developments from lowest animal forms.
We shall be justified in accepting the experience of the past for
deciding the fate of America, when we agree that the same elements
enter to make up American character, and none other, which were
present in ttib lives of these perished emigres. Must we so agree?
Rather have we not ample reason to believe that this modem natim
is in possession of new and improved faculties, which none of those
earlier nations are to be credited with ? The mineral kingdom had
form, the vegetable kingdom had not only form, but Itfe as well, and the
animal kingdom had not only form and life» but cmsaotMUis added
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Concerning the Nation's Soul. iftj
thereto. The ninetectidi centiny is tfae product of M past cientaries,
Hkqreased by itselfl So let us say, America inherits the past, and addi
herself to it What, then j of the lotare ? Here 4s Ihe solution: Have
we a purpose broad enou|^ and high enough, and deep enoi^ to
derelop the entire manhood of the race? Yes? Then has the new
world a lease of the future to run without end t
The nations of old were only able to gra^ and realize in actual
life partial statements. For instance, ipHien the Hebrew nation said,
*' Jehovah is One," and followed this idea with a complete surrender
of soul, as the pole star of national destiny, there was proclaimed and
enforced a central truth. But it must be confessed that the Hebrews
imagined strange things concerning their One God ; that they were
bUnd and deaf to other statements quite important to the well-being
of mankind. That nation emphasized the fact of God, but it could
not slander Man and survive. A religion denying the human broth-
erhood is emasculated, and comes to naught When the idea of
One universal " chosen people " dawned, Israel hung its harp on
the willows. It could not chant this hymn to Humanity. The par-
tial dies. It lacks one or more of the vitalizing forces. The law of
permanencie is wholeness. God must be the Unit. If man wiH
draw upon the fraction only to found and perpetuate his empire, he
must forfeit so much life.
At the present period of the world's history, there would seem to
exist the possibilify, certainly, for inaugurating a neW era in the con-
ditions of human progress, in which all nations may soon unite.
Heretofore the civilizations have been special and private. By a
noble aspiration now manifested throughout the entire world, the
people — despite their rulers, whose ambitions would continue the
old feud — claim a common relation and destiny. As God is*,ONE, so
Humanity is One, and Liberty is the* goal. The grand words of
life are all formed and uttered, if we mistake not Law, Science,
Religion : these in unison, securing liberty. Liberty is their product.
And now, what have we Americans to say ? How do we stand in
regard to our relations with mankind ? What are we doing? For
the time being, by a worid-wide consent we claim Liberty to be our
peculiar word. It therefore belongs to America more than to any
other nation on the globe, at present, to reveal the deep, eternal
meanings that word must carry to all. This is not the expression of
vanity. It is not ^ptism. No. It is only the recognition of re-
sponsibility, ^e i^reciation of opportunity. It is America's oppor-
tunity to sum up all past gains and achieve the hope of all ages — *
LxfiSKTy FOR ALL 1 To this high task the nation^ soul is pledged..
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284 The Radical.
In its achievement all human beings, by subtlest ties of brotherhood,
are profoundly interested. All nature cries aloud for the achieve-
ment This superb continent utters its .voice : " What would ye here
with me but serve this purpose of God? "
2. It becomes then a question which no American citizen may
refuse to consider : How is the nation's soul being saved?
I raise no doubts but that its soul is, in some way, to be saved.
The world cannot afford, our own necessities cannot permit, the
catastrophe of so great a failure. The past has shown that where we
will not go, we shall be driven. By victory or disaster, by peace or
war, by joy or lamentation, our work is achievable : but one of these
ways must we choose. It cannot be different with a nation than it is
with an individual. The invisible laws cannot be broken. They
execute themselves upon both. The alternatives are willingness or
unwillingness, liberty or slavery. God will have cc>-operation or ser-
vice. If the law is within there is liberty. If it is without there is
bondage. What was the heroism of Jesus but his endeavor to abolish
for himself the exterior law ? What was his superiority but the de-
gree of his triumph ? What is his proper influence but the excitement
of others for their own victory ? Willingness to obey, from pure de-
light in the recognition of the law, is man's religion. It is not a
sorrow but a joy. " I and my father are always one," is the true
expression of its attainment The personification may be dropped,
and the statement may stand : land the ^ight are one / •
If we turn now to the history of the Republic since its organization
under the Constitution, we shall easily discover that we have never
accepted our work heartily, as a people would which had attained to
a " pure religion," as became a people of deepest sincerity. As yet
America has had no religion, no devotion, no willingness, no delight
in her ' business ' 1 The necessity has been upon her ; but^as a lash.
She has advanced reluctantly, and only when to refuse was madness;
after every expedient else had failed. Her Declaration of Mights —
that " Sermon on the Mount " — was very soon proven to be little
more than the frenzy of hot blood ; blood heated in defending self.
She has never been without able lawyers (whom she has feed with
the highest honor and wealth) to pronounce it a poor, impracticable
" generality." And now after eighty-nine years of rebellion against
this one idea^ which first won her the sympathy of mankind, she flees
for safe^ to a recognition of it in her organic law, but hesitates yet
to save it from becoming a dead letter, by force of proper legisla-
tion.
Of such conduo^ what can one say ? Is it a pure patriotism which
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Concerning the Nation's Soul. 285
I*
blinks such facts ? Shall we seek refuge in glorious sensations pro-
duced by the reflection that we are a 'great country' — that we
have had a 'great rebellion/ and put it down, exhibiting courage,
skill, and resources, never surpassed by any other nation ; and that
we have at last liberated our slaves^ It is true that we are a 'great
country,' — if we count our acres \ and we have vast resources, both
belonging to the soil, and in the native character of our people,
— if that may be called native which is as yet barely naturalized, —
and we have been courageous and skillful both in defending our re-
bellion (for we are one from lake to gulf) and in putting it down ;
and we have amended our Constitution by inserting a clause, saying,
that in our land there shall hereafter be no " involuntary servitude.**
(I might go on to add, — and we have proven our ability to flay any
portion, or, all of mankind, beside.) But what of all this ? The acres
we found here on our arrival. The hidden treasures they contained
are our good fortune. The energy we have displayed in achieving a
material prosperity, it is no new thing in. the world. We but repeat
the most ancient of ambitions, under favorable circumstances. And
our 'great rebellion,* which we have put down — alas! Shall we
glory in that ? Yes, let us take some satisfaction in knowing that
when the calamity came, we did behave ourselves in some degree like
men I But yet we should be very hiunble, and take our satisfaction for
the achievement in a most private manner. For see,' what a fearful
penance it was we paid — even so heroically I Loyal men, whom did
you fight ? Not a foreign foe. Your battle was like that which each
private man has to wage with himself, — a battle against his own sins.
The nation parted for a time, — the good resolution and the bad
determination stood opposed on the battle field in a struggle for the
mastery. But in fact there was no division. It was the fierce contest
of a giant striving against himself to save himself from destruction.
And all the wdrld might have seen as it looked on, that this evU deter-
mination in his character had grown to its strength by virtue of his
own folly, weakness, and lust He had been in complicity with his
Satan. He had broken his vow. He had given room to the fiend,
and always yielded when it cried, " give," until he found, at length,
how it was keeping no bargain that was made, and had even framed
a request for his whole being — soul and body. Then the mighty
battle commenced. Is it over ? " Yes, for we have liberated our
slaves." Have we ? Is our Satan quite dead ? He threw away the
ballot He found the bayonet a poor weapon. He elutches eagerly
again for the ballot We have put aside the bayonet Have we taken
up the ballot? Foiu* millions of us — our ^* liberated staves*^ — are
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denied tiiis weapon for our defence. And tiie Chief of tlie nation
would turn these freedmm over to the old enemy, now made thrice
cruel by his half-defeat. Is the battle over? Is the ** great rebel-
lion " put down ? Have we saved the nation's Soul alive ? Let us
not limit our view of the " rebellion " to the South. It has a wider
radige. It is the whole country that has been in rebellion, and
against a higher law than was ever enacted at Washington — this law
of all men's liberty — about which we prate. Do not forget that!
Loyalty to that must bring our peace, and place the nation for the
first time into prosperous conditions. We have had no peace in the
past, we have had no prosperity. A fearful satire upon our "/aw^ *•
has been our 'giant war;' and our prosperity — we may measure that
by the harvest of debt we have reaped, and are yet reaping.
What then, I repeat, shall we say of a nation so swift to profess, so
tardy to practice? Must we "despair of the Republic"? Must we
confess failure despite of our own and the universal expectation ? For
one, I vote, nay ! We shall triumph aver ourselves in the end. We
shall win our victory of Liberty^ for there is a Will " at this end of ths
line " which is omnipotent / It cannot be frustrated or baffled by natlv€
meanness^ ignorance^ greediness^ cowardice^ or treachery. It knows neither
high nor Ion*, neither favor nor fear, but only Us one word I Success
to that, or DEFEAT FOR AMERICA / And this by no choice of its
own, but because it reads with clear vision the law of God and destiny.
It is not vindictive. It does not delight in the woe of America, It cherishes
no hate. It would redeem and save. It would uplift aU men of every race
and color ifUo the perfect staiure of the sons of God. Its mission it to
bless ! They who have not yet learned of this power in America, and
moreover, have not learned that it cannot be baulked of its purpose,
can have little cheer in view even of our present condition. It was
his knowledge of it which made Mr. Garrison cry out "Liberty
Victorious I " when the Constitutional Amendment was adopted, —
he felt then the end was sure. But it was no more certain then, than
it was when he printed his first copy of the Liberator \ than it was^
when the pledge was given in '76. We were nearer the end ; that
was all. And he meant nothing more.
It would be wrong not to vindicate the natbn in this particular,
namely : it has always intended to do ri^t sometime. Whatever of vir-
tue there is in that, the nation is certainly entitled to. And here is
brought into clear light the difference between those who have con-
trolled the legislation of the country, and diose who have educated
die public sentiment The one would say, ** That is right, but we
Bntst wait, we most shade the truth down to the eyes of the people, or
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Concerning the Nation's Soul. 287
they cannot bear it'* The other would say, " If that is right, do net
wait ; evasion and delay bring only disaster. The people are quite
as ready as you are. Trust them. Build your work upon the foun-
dation of just principles. Do not fear the people. They will let your
due work stand."
There are those who claim that this is the proper distinction, and
one which must always exist, between what they term the moral and
the political methods. Policy is the rule of the one. Principle is the
(mly guide for the other. The one may insist upon the whole, the
other must rest content with an approximation. Can it be that this
' gulf between theory and practice can never be bridged save by the
calamities, which such abandonment of principles inevitably bring
for the structure ? One would suppose that a people, schooled in
bitter experiences of such ' statesmanship ' as this, would be ready
for the experiment, at least, of a different method. But it is apparent
that few of the public men in either party have reached this conclu-
sion. The people are not to be trusted, but deceived. Witness the
canvass now being conducted in Connecticut The republicans sup-
port * both Congress and the President' Mr. Fessenden pleads in
. the Senate, " We can't get a whole loaf, we should, as statesmen, take
the half," and Dr. Bellows, of New York, pronounces a benediction
upon this plea for ^practiced wisdomJ But he sneers at Mr. Sumner,
who declares the " half loaf is poisoned," and insists that " the peo-
ple are in advance of us and will sustain us if we are courageous.
They will adopt any constitutional amendment that ought to be
adopted. They will adopt any thing that is true and just for the pro-
tection of benefactors, and to carry out the principles of our govern-
ment" Certainly it would be worth the while for our statesmen in
Congress to put this matter to a thorough test One thing is plain in
the records of the country ; the people have ne,\ex finally sustained
any measure adverse to justice. They have followed their leaders
into compromise, but have forsaken them again for wiser ones. They
have never been taught the folly of half-way work by senators and
representatives. If Congress would test the temper of the people at
this time, let it unite in fair and open dealing with the business of
reconstruction, shape its just and equal measure, and summon the
country to its support Let it state its conviction that any other set- *
tlement than that would not only be dishonorable, treacherous to a
race whose aid had been sought in time of need, but fraught with
new peril to the whole country. Let it take its stand boldly, and
wait the result It is a question, possibly, whether the people at the
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first baHodng would or would not sustain a thoroi^hly radical
measure. That would depend upon circumstances somewhat For
they are so little accustomed to such legislation, they might need time
in which to become acquainted with it
But have we not had a sufficient trial of the methods of policy ?
In this country our public men have had two things in view, the
safety of the Union, and their own position in office. For these ends
they have used compromise and equivocation. Do we need any
additional evidence to prove the fatuity of the one, and the poor suc-
cess of the other ? Compromises have failed utterly to achieve any
other result than evil. And those men who hold their places in Con-
gress for the longest period are the Sumners, Wades, Stevenses ; men
who in all their political life have never failed to lead and form the
public opinion, appealing to the judgments of the people, oftentimes
far in advance ; men who have won just fame, not only for measures
they have carried in the service of justice, but for their opposition to,
and defeat of much vicious legislation.
I have said that there would seem to exist at the present time the
opportunity to inaugurate a new era in the conditions of human
progress. And that in 4his movement it is our opportunity to lead.
It is so by virtue of our claimy and by the weight of all our bitter exp^
• rience in following the old methods. We have been educated, let us
trust, up to the position. If we are not yet ready to do right by a
natural love of right, surely we have good reason for believing that
the old saying is a faithful one, that the best policy, even, is honesty.
And as he has been rated the wisest statesman in the past by the
country at large, who could best play the national game of compro-
mise, so, contrarywise, in the future, statesmanship shall be acknowl-
edged to be the uncompromising application to the business of the Re-
public of Republican principlesl Has not the war brought the poor
game of compromise to an end ? We have in the disposition of the
people, and in the attitude of Congress, some warrant for the belief.
Yet it is by no means certain that our reliance upon principles is
equal to our emergency. In our eagerness to restore what we term
' the peace of the country,' we run the risk oi a surrender. As mat-
ters stand now, there is danger lest we make too great haste. The
'resolutions introduced into the Senate but yesterday by Senator
Stewart, have this look of mischief, if none other. It is certainly
never desirable to continue an ' excited ' state of affairs a moment
longer than is really necessary. But it is not so important to the
country to reach an early settlement, as it is that it reach 2LJust one.
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Concerning the Nation's Soul. a^
We need for this hour the fullest distrust ola^etUmcy^ come in what
friendly guise it may. We can better postpone action for five years
than now make a false move. There is no demand for haste. There
is only the demand for honest dealing. If we are not equal to that
to-day, let Congressmen come home and have a talk with their con-»
stituents. Let them go to the people with an honest purpose ; they
will get a fair hearing, and a strong support, and a new executive at
Washington. If this is all a mistake, then the victory is postponed
for the next generation. The education of the country is not com-
pleted. *
It is the warning given by the foes of impartial liberty in America,
who have a great sympathy for the same cause in Ireland, that the
delay of the restoration of the Southern States to their privileges in
the Union, must inevitably harden that people into undying hatred to
the country, as, for example, the British Government has done with
the people of Ireland. The fact that an American coidd see in the
two cases any possible analogy, invalidiates his capacity to foim any
true judgment in the case at all. While £ngland insists upon a
manifest injustice to Ireland, our Congress demands of the South
only the guarantee of no further injustice on its part to four millions
of people, as intelligent, as brave, as unoffending, as are those whom
England has for centuries oppressed. True, this may embitter the .
South to a great degree, for it yet believes in its right to thus oppress
the negro, and claims the old privilege of doing so as a States Right
within the Union. But no people can forever hold out against the
enforcements of justice. They are themselves drawn by its benefi-
cent sway into its advocacy. They will be glad to confess their mis-
take, and forsake their sin. And instead of hating the power which
baffled their evil designs, they will come to persuade themselves that
they were never in opposition to it : just as we find very many good
people in the North to-day, whom the war has converted into /' life-
long abolitionists.'' We can bind the South in devotion to the
country only in the bonds of justice.
Whether we will apply this justice now, or consent to another half
century of mutual jealousy in guarding a weak, shameful compromise,
hatching a brood of evils such as no foresight can adequately picture
— is the question that confronts the nation at this time. It has the -
antidote of justice, of principle, against a lingering disease oipoUcy
that is shaped in cowardice, blindness and ingratitude.
We may begin now in earnest, if we will, this movement for Nationai
reconstruction. We may erase the past and startiarig^t The past
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t^o The Radical.
sbQuld be known as the epoch o^ policy ^ the expense of our princi-
ples. We can begin an epoch of loyalty to confessed principles. The
^xx:h of disaster would close. The epoch of peace and good-will
tiiroughout the entire land would begin. The nation, lured by the
Jiappy sway of Freedom^ would come at last to love all her paths, and
save its Soul alive and strong to bless the whole brotherhood of Man.
Editor.
REVOLUTIONS.
Bbfc^b Man pajted for this earthly strand,
While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
God put a heap of letters in his hand.
And bade him make with them what word he could.
And Man has turned them many times: made Greece,
Rome, England, France: — yes, nor in vain essay'd
Way after way, changes that never cease.
The letters haye combin'd : something was made.
But ah, an inextinguishable sense
Haunts him that he has not made what he should.
That he has still, though old, to recommence.
Since he has not yet found the word God would.
And Empire after Empire, at their height
Of sway, have felt this boding sense come on.
Have felt their huge frames not constructed right,
And droop'd, and slowly died upon their throne.
One day thou say'st there will at last appear
The word, the order, which God meant should be. —
Ah, we shall know that well when it comes near :
The band will quit Man's heart : — he will breathe free.
Matthew Arnold.
Fl^^m kit Published Poems,
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SURSUM CORDAl
BY MOlfCUUI D. COMWAY.
•• The French made in 1789, the greatest effort ever made by a people, to cut in
two, so to speak, their destiny, and to fix an impassable gulf between what they
had hitherto been, and what they would thereafter be. With this aim they have
taken all sorts o( precautions to import notiiing of the past into their new condi*-
tion ; they have imposed all kinds of consteaints to make themselves other titan
their fathers ; they forgot nothing that would help make them unrecognizable as the
same people. I have always thought that they were much less successful in this
brave enterprize than has been believed in foreign countries, and than was at first
believed among themselves. I am convinced that they have retained from the old
order the greater part of the sentiments, habits, ideas, even with the aid of which
they had conducted the Revolution which had destroyed it, and that without their
will they had preserved itB dedris to construct the edifice of the new society to such
an extent that to comprehend the Revolution and its work, we must forget for a
moment the France which we see, and go to interrogate in its tomb the France that
is no more.'* ♦
THESE remarkable words, coming from one whose authority no
American surely can question, have been haunting me so much
lately that I begin to fear that they are a warning of what is to
come of our own great revolution. Nothwithstandtng die baptism of
our soil with consecrated blood ; notwithstanding the dreary tragical
experiences of nearly a century; it really seems as if Americans
meant to take the dtMs of the old Union — the contempt of the lowly,
the hatred of the negro, the hunger for gold, tiiough coined out of
human hearts, — and with these build the new structure. "Is thy
servant a dog that he should do this thing ? " some enthusiastic opti-
mists will cry. Nevertheless, America ih/i once declare all men free
and equal, and then proceed to sanction the slave trade and the frigi-
tive slave clause of the Constitution. America began with the Dec-
laration of Independence, but reached at last the Dred Scott decision.
These horrible degradations do take place among nations ; and if I
mistake not, ^at if we go to the tomb of the old Union we shall find
much resemblance between it and that of to-day. President Johnson
occupies precisely the same attitude toward the demand of Ais time,
that Buchanan occupied toward the demand of his time. Mr. Ray-
mond is standing in the shoes of Mr. Crittendien. We are now, as
then, invited to cement the Union with the blood of the negro. And
the same trade which ruled in the old Union ; which boi^ht and sold
n^oes and politicians, cotton and principles, is now trying to barter
• Fcom the Pte£u:e to De TocquevilliQy "Vofuim Regime H^la Re9§Mm. '^
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292 The Radical.
for its own immediate re-establishment all that the noble blood shed
in four years had seemed to gain. For the sake of clamorous trade
the "compromises of the Constitution" were made; and it seems
that for the same a new Union with similar compromises is to be
made. The thunders of Sinai which have published eternal laws
to our stricken land have scarcely been hushed, and the golden calf
is already worshipped by the crowd. The conflagration that has
raged in America for a generation has revealed how much of the
house we were living in is perishable material, how much is perma-
nent solid work. It has shown that the inequality of representation in
the Senate has made that body an iron band around a tree striving
to grow : Connecticut with her few tiiousand, could veto New York
with her millions. It has shown that where each representative must
live in the district and state he represents, local selfishness and indi-
vidual self-interest take the place in legislation of public spirit, and
that Western adventurers must checkmate the action of cultivated
men. It has shown that by the Electoral Colleges less than a fourth
of the people would presently elect the President. It has shown that
the sweeping out of every officer by each incoming party, kept com-
petent men out of the public business, and filled each department
with men intent only on making the most money they could out of
the country during their brief stay. It has shown that by the repre-
sentation of slaves a premium was put upon wrong, and men were
empowered to make laws for free men in proportion as they violated
the rights of free men. It has shown that each President, by his re-
eligibility, has been made (with rare exceptions) a reckless intriguer
for a second term of office ; and that the 30,000 offices placed at his
disposal were only so much money to bribe politicians to support him.
In short, the great conflagration has revealed that the seemingly solid
walls about us, were but stucco and terra cotta^ — our oak but veneer-
ing,— our decorations shoddy. There is not a thinking man in
America but must see that any permanent " r^onstruction " must
imply a reconstruction of the whole organic law of the country. But
what power have thinking men in America ? What do Republican
Institutions come to if we can never get a first class man into the
government, — if the Phillipses, Emersons, Whittiers, Lowells, Sum-
ners, Stevenses, Wades, Schur2es, are to be underfoot of ignorant and
vulgar tailors and tinkers ? There is nothing sadder under the sun,
than to see that which is noble overruled and humiliated by the ig-
noble.
Now it seems to me that those men in America who acknowledge
an allegiaxKe to Reason and Principle, are not doing all they can to
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Sursum Corda. 293
save their country from its chronic disgrace and impotence for good.
Our thinker -C intent each upon his little home-republic, or engaged
in realizing his fools-cap Utopia, and does not apply his mind to pub-
lic duties. During the height of the storm, all hands came out and
worked at the piunps or ropes ; but now that the wind abates a little,
each returns to his separate afiair, and cannot even keep up with
the progress of events. We have seen Beecher and many another
lose the elan which th^y had during the war, and the enemy sewing
the old tares whilst the husbandmen are nodding. In a word there
is among our best men a lack of spirit and pluck for theu: public
duties. " All nations," said Dr. South, " that grew great out of little
or nothing, did so merely by the public-mindedness of particular per-
* sons." There is in America enough brain-power and heart-power to
build and guide for grand human results the great machinery of a
Republic ; but it is now engaged in conducting sectarian churches or
reviews. There is a sad lack of public-mindedness amongst our
ablest men and best hearts. From this comes the weakness resulting
ircm the serious disagreements of these men, who united, might be
irresistible. Why should there be such grievous differences between
Phillips and Beecher, Curtis and Greeley, Sumner and Bryant?
" Men," said Socrates, " agree in respect to what they know." There
is some fact or sign of the time recognized by one which the other
has not seen. All men amenable to Reason must agree about princi-
ples, and about the events and facts which practically represent
principles, where they equally perceive and comprehend such events
and facts. It is therefore but a trick which prevents our real men in
America from seeing eye to eye on the great and formidable issues be-
fore us, and consequently prevents their combining to form a power.
That which should be settled with all reasonable persons is thus surren-
dered to be the subject of discussion, when by a little more knowl-
edge, it would be no more a subject of discussion than the sum of two
and two.
Now it seems to me that there should be at some central point of
the Union, — say Cincinnati, or St Louis, — a convention of unoffi-
cial liberal men, and the more literary and thinking men in it the
better, whose business it should be to come to an understanding as to
the position, duty, and prospects of America at present. What does
Reason show to be essential ; what does Justice demand ; what does
Experience prove to be wrong ? Let these questions with their appli-
cations be discussed ; let every argument be met, every doubt enter-
tained, every popular impression or prejudice be analyzed ; ^nd let an
impregnable organon of Reason and Justice be put forth before die.
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^94 'I'he Radical.
workL The first revolution wrote with pen of fire the "flaming ubi-
quities '' of the Declaration of Independence ; before tiie fire o£ ins
second revolution sinks into ashes it should publish fi>r us a purer
law than that Let every town, village, neighborhood, send a rq>re9eni-
ative to this congress of Reason ; but let us not imitate the bad sys-
tem of our government and leave at home the true refnresentathne
because he is not associated with a special locality. Wendell PhillipB
might all the better represent St Louis, because he is not connected
with its petty interests : we need the congressmen of luiiversal laws.
There is no reason why representatives should be even confmed to
the nation ; but in such a convention, Mill, Gasparin, Mazzini, and
other sworn supporters of the constitution of the imiverse, and inde^
pendent of transient dynasties, might well have seats. ' Nor should'
men alone engage in such a consultation. It is doubtfiil if we should
ever have been cursed with Slavery or War, had the high intuitions
and inspired faith of woman been adequately represented in govern-
ment ; and no Senate of Humanity could b^n by ostracising one
half of Humanity. Let delegates be chosen without reference to sex.
No true American Congress will ever sit, unless Lucreda Mott, Lydia
Child, Mrs. Chapman, Anna Dickinson, -^ or the women who shall
follow them, if the true congress is yet to be postponed, — shall be in
it as equals.
What power would the enactments of such a congress have ? Let
us not make the ballot-box, nor the policeman, nor the soldier our
fetish. The democrats voted, the abolitionists did not ; which proved
stronger ? Brooks wielded the bludgeon, Sumner did not ; which has
■prevailed ? Let such a congress as I speak of call forth a standing
army of clear ideas ; let them make justice so plain that only the
criminal can demur; let them set forth simple truth, so that the
denier can only reveal his long ears. There are scattered through
the woods and fields of America millions of men and women in every
heart of whom God hath set His witness and friend ; they are now
hearing uncertain and discordant bugle-calls on every side ; they run
now with Doolittle, now with Wade, now with the Evening Fost^ now
with the Tribune ; and thus the very army of Gk>d in America is dem*
oralized, and may presently be utterly routed. Commercial selfish-
ness, political ambition, sentimental compromises, — by all these hvft
the people been deceived, and they have ended in giving to eadi
house its dead : on the funeral hush, and anxious questioning of mil-
lions of honest men and women, let the breath of all true spirits sound
the trumpet of God, and these will know which is the true Government
of America, and none other will be able to resist it
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THE POLICY.
THE worst evil of the past yesix has been our not knowing who were
our frienck, and who were our enemies. The best result of this
winter's discussion has been the discovering where the line runs be-
tween the two qunps. lio intelligent observer of events needs to
doubt that to<iay the Head-quarters of the Rebellion are in the Mliite
House at Washin^on. Andrew Johnson is the leader of the present
SouUiem e^rt to re^n by political management what the South lost
in the batde-fiekL He b therefore to be watched and opposed as the
most efficient servant of the still unchanged and rebellious South.
:No fair words — no specious promises — are to lull again to sleep this
tireless and indispensable vigilance. Any journal or man that tries
' to persuade us to trust him, must be branded as treason's ally or tool.
In Congress^ as representing the National sentiment and purpose,
is now our hope. While that stands, we have political machinery Xo
work with. Should that succumb to the Administration, we are
thrown back upon mere public discussion, and compelled to wait till
other elections have replaced such treadberous leaders. While hold-
ing office and representing their party, members of Congress are the
Nation's political voice and teachers, whether in session or at home.
Meanwhile we are to remember that the North is already so far in-
structed and convinced, that had the Administration stood by us, the
whole perfect fruit of this National Victory might have been saved ;
and the nation remodelled, with absolute justice for its basis. As it
is, we have the result perilled, if not lost, by the treachery of the Ad-
ministration— by Mr. Johnson planning and straining every nerve,
using all his power, and usurping more, to reconstruct tbe South as
nearly as possible, just as she was before the war.
In such circumstances our' effort should be to avoid. any setHemmi,
We should rejoice to recogni2e that the epoch is not ended, and diat
we have not yet reached dry, solid land. Some men are in haste to
compromise in order to end this transition state. From Mr. Fessen-
den, of Maine, bred in the superficial and timid school of the Whig
party nothing else could have been expected. No child of such a
school could understand this era, much less be fit to lead in it Mr.
Wilson of Massachusetts, has studied for twenty years the history of
slavery, and slavery compromises under this government ; and his last
speech shows that his twenty years study has taught him exactly nodiing.
No compromise has ever been made, even in our dullest and weak-
est times, whidi has not hindered truth, postponed justice, and weak-
ened freedom. Our fathers, m 17S9, coimted the slave as three-fifths
of a man, afecting to believe, *— perhaps believing, -^ that the selfish
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296 The Radical.
wish of the South to count the other two fifths would hasten
emancipation. On the contrary, it led the South to intrigue for new
territory to increase its relative weight ; but it never gave rise to one,
even the slightest effort, to secure more representative strength by
freeing the negro. Meanwhile the compromise deadened the nation's
conscience, strengthened slavery, and almost wrecked the government
Just the same has been the history of all our compromises, made
even in ordinary political times. Much more is it madness now in
this formative hour of the nation's life, — r when, if ever and more than
ever, it can be taught and ripened, lifted up and on, — to shorten and
surrender this our great opportunity, by a cowardly, distrustful, and
ignorant haste to compromise.
Our true policy is this. Let Congress plainly annoimce its belief
that no state lately in rebellion, is fit to be readmitted to Congress.
Let it lay down the principle that no one shall ever be admitted except
it establishes universal or at least impartial suffrage : and then let Con-
gress adjourn. Every day it continues in session jeopards this great
cause. It may be bought, bullied, or deceived. All tends that way while
it is in session, exposed to Administrative influence. Once adjourned,
let the lines be distinctly drawn, and go to work to meet 1868 in earn-
est ; the interval between now and the next elections. State, National,
and Presidential, is none too long for the work. The treason .of
President Johnson and the impossibility of impeaching him, leaves
no hope of any earlier settlement It is just as well, and much safer to
acknowledge this. To adjourn and go to the people on this issue is
saving time. In this way, spite of the President, the whole fruit of
the war may yet be saved. With the lines distinctly drawn; the fight
above-board and acknowledged — the issue fsdrly presented, and
every Congressman stumping his own State, the nation may yet be
founded and built up on impartial and absolute justice. Our New
England air will save some of our Senators at least from the compro-
mise malaria of Pennsylvania Avenue.
Any other course, — drifting about in a storm of Constitutional
Amendments, pilot blinded or drugged, and rudder unshipped —
allows timid and heedless senators, to put us bound hand and foot
into the hands of the enemy, under pretence of being /riw/te/ states-
men. Any other course runs the risk of giving us another ten years
of just such dislocated, discordant, and perilous national life as we
have passed through since 1856. Adjourn Congress then. Let every
member turn himself into witness, teacher, and drill master, and let
our bugle call be. No State admitted at present^. and none ever admitted
which has the word " WHITE" or the recognition of race in its Statute
Books. Wendell Phillips.
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JESUS THE SUBLIME RADICAL.
From a Discourje by Henky Waed Bbeo^cr, dilivertd in Plymwtk Cktfrtkt
Oct I, 1865, and publishtd in " Th€ Ind^nndent'' of Nov, 16.
WHEN Jesus reached the age appointed for the priesthood — the
age of thirty — he entered upon a career of public teaching. And
you will take notice that he did not put himself under the care
of official teachers. He was not appointed to teach by custom or any
authority. By the right of the individual he began to be a public teacher ;
and not officially or ecclesiastically, but morally and substantially, he was a
priest among the Jews during the three years that he pursued that course
of teaching and work which we have recorded in part in the New Testa-
ment Then he was cut off as a malefactor, suffering the indignity of the *
most ignominious execution. But the things which he taught in this brief
period, caught up and only partially reported as they were, have since that
time been the radical revolutionary forces of the world A man came into
the world obscurely and ignobly ; he was unknown for thirty years ; then
for three years he taught ; and his teachings, not reduced by himself to
writing, and only in part by his disciples, have from that time to this been
the marrow of thought, and the source and fountain of moral influence on
the globe, and have revolutionized it
And who were the Pharisees ? They were those who sought to lift m«n
above their ordinary condition, and bring them under moral restraints, and
impose upon them spiritual duties. They were ignorant of the right
methods of doing these things, as we shall see The Pharisee
has been called the Puritan of the Jews. He was. If you contrast the
Pharisee with the Greek and the Roman, they seem transcendently nobler
than he in moral aspirations and endeavors Relatively to Christy
they were low and even despicable. Their chief sins were selfishness,
bigotry, narrowness in religious duties and views. It was not chained
against them that they were not religious or ethical It was charged against
them that they were too much so. Their fault was on the side of excessive
zeal. It was a zeal that laughed at compassion and kindness. It was a
zeal that sprang from a selfish and bigoted adhesion to religious views.
They had no true pity and humanity in their religion.
The religion of the Pharisees was a religion of ecclesiastics. And they
confounded religion itself with the instruments or institutions by which the
religious spirit or feeling acts. They came to regard religious forms and
religious ordinances as sacred. They forgot that they were the mere vehicle
of feeling, and that, therefore, they could not be sacred, since nothing that
is material can be sacred. Sacredness belongs to moral qualities, and not
to physical, to spirit, and not to matter. There is no such thing as a sacred
foundation-stone, or a sacred wall, or a sacred place, except in poetic or
popular language. That which is sacred must be in the living thing. It is
mind-quality, soul-quality, that is sacred. And they have drifted fkr from
3
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apS The Radical.
the spirit of religion who believe that the instruments of religion are sacred*
instead of religion itsel£ They who look upon days, and ecclesiastical cer^
emonies, and garments, and ordinances as holy, and worship them, art idol-
aters. They have set up right in the threshold of God's church the wcn^hip
of forms and ceremonies, instead of the service of true religion.
And if it was the nature of the Pharisee to be selfish, to leave humanity
out of his religion, and to worship the instruments of religion, and not the
thing itself^ you may be sure that Phariseeism is not dead. You do not
need to go to the New Testament to see where Pharisees are. They sit in
our churches. They are in all sects. It is one of those methods in which
the imperfection of human nature manifests itself when it is acting in the
direction of religion.
If this is a £ur description of the Pharisees, they were stem, earnest
men, seeking to reform and exalt human society, in the main, by a rigorous
use of secular and ecclesiastical forces. They were not without many good
qualities ; they were not without much that was praiseworthy ; but they *
^iled in the essential points of spirituality and love. And as these were
the foundation qualities of God's nature and government, they h\\ed at the
very pivotal point It was in the presence of these rulers that Christ enacted
the scenes that are recorded, as having been enacted during the three offi-
cial years of his life.
The question which I propose briefly to answer is, '' how must such a
being as Christ have appeared to these men, such as they were ? "
There is such a thing, you know, as a higher class in morality ; there is
such a thing as an aristocracy of virtue, or supposed virtue ; and there is
no aristocracy and no monarchy that is more imperious, more domineer-
ing, more tyrannical, than ecclesiastical aristocracy. They said,
^* There is a man of great power, and we must see whether we can use him,
and whether he will be on our side." The question in their mind was not
this : " Is he truer than* we are ? Is he better than we are ? Will his truth
make mankind better, and the world happier ? " Their thought was this —
and it is not very different from the thought of men now-a-days : " If this
man is with us, we are going in for him ; if not, we are going against him."
The s^dlogism was, " God has made us the instrument of enlightening this
people. Therefore, it is essentiad that we should be kept in authority and
power. And if this man goes with us, he goes with religion, and we accept
him. If he goes against us, he goes against religion, and we reject him."
Now, churches, and seminaries, and Christian institutions of
all kinds, are feet with which religion walks. They are hands with which
it helps itsel£ They are instruments which God employs in carrying it on.
But when a comparison is made between institutions and ordinances and
the things which they serve, there is no hesitation as to which is superior.
But the Pharisees said of Christ : ^ If he goes with our institutions, if he
goes with Jewry, he is right ; if he does not, he is wrong." And because
he did not go with them they turned against him. The light
came upon them in vain. They did not understand it God was presented
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Jesus the Sublime Radical. 399
to them as a spirit, and they did not accept him. And he
charged them with blindness — and rightly too, — because they could not
see these things.
But they did see and feel what 'to them was more to the point — tiiat
Christ's influence was against them ; that he stood in their path ; that if he
increased they would decrease : and that if the people were to be taught by
him they could no longer teach them. In other words, they were men of a
party. Here was an individual that refused to join their party, and did
things which had a tendency to disintegrate and destroy that party ; and
they turned against him.
How do men act under such circumstances now ? Is it strange to see a
party turn against a man because he does not go with them, without any
consideration of his character, or of what the result of his teachings would
be f The Pharisees were a party in reOgion ; and when they found that
Christ would not train with tiiem, they eschewed him. For one of two
things a party must do — win or kill ; and it will be so as long as the carnal
element is predominant in the worid.
Let us see, then, how, in some points, Christ's independent spiritual car
reer traversed party considerations, and how he went to his crucifixion.
The charge against him was that he ate with publicans and
sinners, and that he sat down with them. There is a great difference, >ou
know, between preaching to people, and going with people. He might
have preached to publicans at appointed times and places, and he woiild
have had small audiences; but he went where the publicans and sinners
were ; and he sat down with them, and ate with them, and they found him
an agreeable companion. And he was pure enough and noble enough to
bear the test to which he was subjected in so doing. And when he was
charged with it as an offense contrary to the Jewish custom, he declared '* I
do it as a physician goes among the sick. They need me and I go to them
because they need me — not because I need them." But this was very
offensive to the purest of the Pharisees.
More than that, he taught the common people not in rabbinical phrase,,
but in the vernacular. You will take notice that a minister who joins him-
self to a sect, and avows that it is his purpose to exalt that sect, is permit-
ted by that sect to speak in any way he pleases, and as far as he pleases,,
so that all the benefit inures to it But let a man refuse to belong to any
sect, let him claim brotherhood with all sects so far as they are Christ's, and:
let him teach in any other way than that of the catechism and pulpit, let
him preach the great truths of religion so that the common people shall i
hear him gladly, and what is the impression that is [Mroduced but this : that
the man is seeking vulgar applause and popularity, op else that he is going
out of the way, and is a dangerous man ? The established sects do not
like to have the Gospel preached to men except in the language that they
are accustomed to use.
Now, Christ would not use rabbinical language in his teaching. He did. *
not speak as the Jews did. Bat when he taught the common, peop^, alii
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300 The Radical.
said :<' This man speaks with authority." What does that mean ? Weight
He spoke right home to their consciences, and that is always speaking with
weight He brought the Gospel into their houses, into their business, into
their dispositions, into their very superstitions. He brought it into their
religion. That was a strange place to bring it, it is true ; but he brought It
there. It was his habit to preach the Gospel, not professionally, but per-
sonally, so as to make it a Gospel to the common people. And it was this
that was ofiensive to the Jews. It was against their party.
More than that, the practical superiority which he gave to truth or prin*
ciple over usages and institutions was offensive to them. It was an indirect
assault upon them. For the Pharisees were men that believed in regular-
ity, and order, and subordination, and discipline. The Pharisee was su»
perlatively the model conservative of the world. He did not disdain growth ;
but, after all, his sympathies and feelings, first and mainly, inclined them to
the policy of taking care of what you have already obtained. It was holding
on to the past that they were thinking of. Not that they ignored advance-
ment, but the key-note of their life was conservation. Therefore, when they
saw a man of great power and extraordinary gifts disseminating principles
which did not belong to their theological system, and raising moral tides
which could not but work mischief to them, they felt that he was making
not only a personal, but an ecclesiastical attack upon them. And, as con-
servative religious men, they thought they were bound to oppose him.
•For example, was there anything more sa^ed to them than sacrifice ?
The idea of sacrifice was to them what the idea of atonement is to orthodox
men, now-a-days, who hold it to be the centre of the Christian arch. Sac-
rifice was never despised by Christ, but relatively he undervalued it The
idea of sacrifice among the Jews had taken precedence of humanity, justice
and right ; and Christ came and said : " If thou bring thy gift to the altar,
and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave
there thy gift, and go thy way ; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then
come and offer thy gift" What does it mean but this : '' Do not think
diat sacrifice to God is die highest religious duty." You may ofkx up sac-
rifice in such a way that it shall be Utterly offensive to God. In other
words, sacrifice depends for its goodness on preceding moral qualities. A
principle is higher than the ordinance which you take to exhibit that prin-
ciple. The life of religion is in the soul first ; and then come the instru-
ments by which you develop that life
The same is (rue of the Sabbath-day. It is remarkable that almost every
•mention of the Sabbath day in which Christ expresses any opinion respect-
ing it was seemingly adverse to its sacredness. And some have supposed
that Christ was opposed to the Sabbath day. But he was not The Sab-
bath day had become an oppressive day to the common people. It had lost
its peculiar fragrance and sweetness as a voluntary religious day. And
Christ, happening to meet it at the point of its oppression, put the duty of
love in religion higher than any ordinance. He only undervalued the Sab-
bath as contrasted wfth the object for which it was ordained. It was the
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Jesus the Sublime Radical. 301
outside ordinaQce as contrasted witii the inside spirit that led Christ to de-
nounce it
These are instances of Christ's attempt to put the truth higher than the
ordinance or usage by which that truth was expressed. The result was
that those who felt themselves condemned, those who felt their methods of
teaching religion set aside, those who felt that there was a tendency to un-
settle the minds of their hearers, did not hesitate to declare that he was an
infideL
The whole course of Christ was so influential that the Phari-
sees could not let him alone. Such was the force with which he taught
and moved in life, he thrust himself upon them in such a way at every
turn, he irritated and aggravated them so, that they were in the con-
dition of many men in your day, who have said of reformers that were la-
boring to correct the evils of society : " Why will not these men let these
things alone ? Why are they always agitating them ? " Christ made Jeru-
salem hot for the Pharisees. The public mind had become filled with
those new-£iangled notions about morality and religion which he promul-
gated ; and the Pharisees wondered why, if he was a minister of the true
religion, he would stir up the people so.
That is not alL Christ was the most unpractical man that ever lived ;
and yet the most practical He could not be used by the Pharisees for
their purposes. He could not live simply for the present, as they did.
He was living for something beyond They were Jews. He be-
longed to the human kind. They sought immediate success. He was es-
tablishing the foundations of that kingdom in which dwelleth righteousness.
They were for now and for the transient He was for the future and the
stable. And how could they use such a man as that ? He was larger than
they were ; he saw something more than their plans contemplated ; he was
forever laboring for a more resplendent end than they had conceived of;
and they could not use him.
Christ was, lastly, a sublime radical — and that was the secret of the
matter. " How dare you," one will say to me, ** apply such a term to
Christ ? " Because my glorious Master is one that has got used to wear-
ing ignominious terms ; and any term of ignominy that is made such by
contempt of the higher against the lower I take and put upon the brow of
Christ Another thorn it may be, but it is one that brings blood for salva-
tion. And I declare that Christ was the first and the sublime radical.
^* Now also," says the New Testament, speaking of the coming of Christ,
** the axe is laid unto the root of the trees." He struck at the very princi-
ple of things. What is radical but a word derived from radix, which means
root ? He was a rootman. He came right at the worm at the root of the
trees. A physician that, instead of attempting to palliate a difficulty, deals
strictly with the organic lesion, is a radical. In morals, the man that does
not endeavor to smooth over the surface of things, but tisks what is the
fundamental cause of wrong, and then attacks that cause, is a radical.
And Christ was declared to be a radical. The axe was laid at the root of
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302 The Radical.
things. And from the days of Christ to this, the men that have been the
most known and felt, and the longest felt in the world, have been men that
passing oyer compromises and petty ways of setding difficulties, have
struck the foundation causes of things, and insisted upon having health and
right, and refused to train with men that were in favor of letting matters
ake their own course. And they have been, like their Master, radicals
and therefore reformers ; cursed while they lived, and worshipped wh^n
they were dead ; thorns in the side of parties, and crucified by them, and
held up as the martyrs and heroes of their age by the next generation.
The men that prove to be the regenerators of mankind begin as
Christ did, despised and subjected to obloquy by tlie laws and accredited
sources of government All men that hold in their hands the supposed
authorities of religion, turn themselves against these on-coming men of
power, who, though they are uncomely, shape the foundations of the New
Jerusalem, which are to be laid, not as the foundations of human institu-
tions are, of hay, wood, clay and stubble, but of precious stones, in immor-
tal principles of truth, which shall never pass away. They that
build on purity and rectitude, are steadfast and safe, but they that build on
arrangements, on nice and cunning devices, on compromises, in order to
dodge duty, are liable at any moment to be overthrown and destroyed. We
have been living for years and years in a period in which men have sacri-
ficed principle for the sake of quieting the community, for the sake of gain-
ing peace, for the sake of settling in an easy manner questions which God
Almighty was determined should not be settled till they were settled right.
We have been living for years and years in a period in which men have
exhausted all their ingenuity to suppress those Christian influences which
have been at work in the world. And we have had the church and religion
against Christ in his exponents in the land. We have had the law against
Christ Government and commerce have been against Christ. And they
have all joined in the cry : " Crucify him ! Crucify him ! " And men said,
** Now we will have peace." But did you get it ? Did you get it in the
Church ? Did you get it in the State
Now, having gone through five bloody years, we come again to great
questions which stand petitioning at our doors, and God says : " Setde them
on principles of justice and rectitude, and you shall have peace." But the
whole nation are asking, " Ought we not, after so long a time, to arrange
so as to have peace ? " And men are saying, " Why insist upon such radi-
cal ideas ? Why not accept more temperate views ? " And those views
which they call temperate, and which they are urging us to adopt, are views
that have lies in them. And I stand again and say, Truth has no revolu-
tion in it Right has no change in it Justice is always safe and sure.
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30J
THE PATRIOT.
Whom may the people trust ?
Not those, the base confederates of state,
Who'd lay their country's fortunes desolate,
Pluck her fair ensigns down to seal the Black man's fate.
Not these deserve their trust
But they, the generous and the just,
Who, nobly free, and meekly great,
Will steadfast serve the servant race,
As masters in the meniars place;
Saxons on Ethiops proudly wait,
By their dark brothers steady stand.
Till owners these of mind and hand,
And freedom's banner waves o'er an enfranchised land.
These are the NatiofCs trust.
They are the Patriots just
A Bronson Alcott.
A TALE FROM THE GULISTAN.
They tell a story of an oppressor who purchased firewood from the poor
by force, and gave it gratuitously to the rich. A judicious man passing
that way said, *' You are a snake that bites every one you see, or an owl
that destroys every place where you sit ; although your injustice may pass
unpunished amongst us, it will not escape the observation of that God to
whom all secrets are revealed. Injure not the inhabitants of this world,
that the sighs of the oppressed may not ascend to heaven." The oppressor
was displeased at his words, frowned on him, and took no further nodce of
him, until one night when fire, issuing from the kitchen, caught the stock
of wood, and consumed all his goods ; when his soft bed became a seat of
warm ashes. It happened that this same judicious person, passing by, and
hearing him say to his friends, '' I know not from whence this fire fell upon
my house," replied, " From the smoke of the hearts of the poor." Beware
of the groans of the wounded souls, since the inward sore will at length
break out ; oppress not to the utmost a singly heart, for a single sigh has
power to overset a whole world. On the crown of Kaikusrou was the fol-
lowing inscription : " For how many years, during what space of time, shall
men pass over my grave ? As the kingdom came to me by succession, in
like manner shall it pass to the hands of others."
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LETTER FROM PARIS.
Paris, January, 1866.
I REGRETTED not to have been able to send you some word for The
Radical before leaving America. I should have liked at least to ex-
press the interest I felt in its publication, in the ideas which it will ad-
vocate, in its tone and spirit Its name, simple, direct and pronounced, its
assumption on the very title of the broadest, most inclusive meaning of the
word, Religion, were both most satisfactory and full of good omen. I trust
and believe that its purpose will be fidfUled by the frankest, most unreserved,
most unmanipulated statements of doctrine, unabated by any qualifications
except such as will be dictated by good sense and good feeling, and above
all, by the earnest desire to find and communicate the truth. There never
was a time when clear thought and decided statement were more needed,
or could be more useful. In the confusion of old opinions broken up ; in
the fog of new ideas half formed ; in the unreconciled and illogical mixture
• of systems and tendencies ; in the temptation to stretch the old phraseology
to cover new thoughts, and to use the new phrases without a distinct mean-
ing ; in the mutual misunderstandings of wings and schools ; in the pain of
unsettled convictions and the danger of intellectual dishonesty; in the
sincere desire for light and the sincere fear of losing the way ; in all that
characterizes the present theological condition of America, any clear state-
ment of matured conviction may be of immense service. And the more
straightforward and outspoken, the more serviceable. So, I hope your
contributors will always remember that it is The Radical for which they
are writing.
And^I hope you will hold to that larger meaning of Religion which I sup-
pose you to keep in setting it in your title as if it summed up all that your
Magazine would have to treat of ; and I am sure that you do not mean to
confine its pages to mere theological criticism or devout sentiment It ia
of great consequence that men should come to use the word Religion as
covering sdl of Hfe, and not shut it off to name only one enclosure, however
important All of life, I'mean, viewed in the higher aspects ; viewed in
those spiritual, eternal relations which thoughtful men see to He back of lh«
sur&ce-aapects of all The sooner we get entirely rid of the technical
division of sacred and profirae, the better. The sooner we get rid of the
division between sacred and woridly as a division by walls on the same
surfiice, and come to see it as a separation only of higher and lower planes^
of superfidid and central, die better,
I need not say, then, that I entirely disagree with your trenchant and
impassioned correspondent, H. J., ( I wish|he had not such a bad habit of
calling names,) in his attempt to confine Religion to it9 purely redemptory
significance, to its single rehtion of salvation from sin. Even in that
^grim and uncompromising past" to which he so confidently appeals
against the '' modem sentimentalism," this has not been the only concep*
tion of Religion ; though it may have been too often a predominant one.
In all times men have regarded God as life-giving, beneficent, as Creator^
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Letter from Paris, 305
Protector, Father ; and not only as Punisher and Pardonan But were it
otherwise, we ought to believe that in the growth of tht race higher and
completer conceptions would naturally take the place of the old, imperfect
ones ; that what was latent in the past would become proraineBt, and that
what was predominant might become secondary. I admhred very much ^e
picturesqueness of those carved fifleenth-centuiy chairs ii^ich I saw the
other day at the Musie de Cluny among a multitude of &sdnattng antiqui*
ties ; and I wanted. one of them very much. But I should count 4hat man
as *' doting and debauched,'* (to borrow H. J.'s mUd phrase,) who ^loidd
assert that the builders of ^ose hard, narrow, straight-backed seato of a
<< grim and uncompromising past," alone knew what was fit for a Christian
to sit in. I protest against every theology founded on th^ Fall of Man. I
protest against this merely pcUkological view of Religion. Religion is
Health; but it is not necessarily Cure, I believe in the fiills of men ; but I
believe it better to be saved from falling, than to be saved fkx>m the conse-
quences of having fallen. We should do well to carry the modem ther-
apeutics into the spiritual sphere, and substitute, as much as possible. Regi-
men for Medicine. I have no doubt that we inherit some bad tendencies
from our ancestor, the Past, but many good ones, too, and among them the
power to do better than he. Some men, it has been said, are so well bora
that they do not need to be bom again > and this is true of most men, in
some particular. Our aim should be to make it true of all men in all re-
spects. Thankfiol we needs must be for the Divine Physidan, the Healing
Spirit beyond whose restorative power no soul can ever sink. But I diink
we ought to insist more and more on those sweet native ties which in so
many simple, wholesome, cheerful ways bind us instinctively and vohnv-
tarily to Him from whom we are never sundered but in part, never vtteriy
alienated, never hopelessly fallen, nor ever can be ; whose children we are
not by adoption but by birth.
But recognizing this ; declaring that Religion, or our consdoM union
with God is a native not a superinduced relation, and so finding Religion
as I said, to cover all of Hfe, it does not ic^low that every thing which a
man does can properly be called religious. A woman sitting in church-
time on Boston Common ; a man mending a steam-engine on Sunday^ are
not necessarily reUgtous. I should want to know what thought was in the
mind, what disposition in the heart, what motive in the Will and hand, be-
fore deciding. If there were mere idle or superficial thought^ a purely ma-
terial aim, mer^ animal enjoyment or animal activity, there was so ba no
religion, though there may have been no harm. If there was firivolity, or
ill-temper, or any form of selfishness, so far there was irreHgion. And pre-
cisely the same would be true if they were at church, or reading the Bible,
or doing any act commonly called religious. Man's outward life, whetiier
of work, or play, or ritual worship, can all be carried on wttbout religion.
But also into the most ordinary, commonplace things of it tiiere may be fmt
SQch a spfrit of conscientious fidelity, such a sense of doty, sudi a hearty
unselfishness^ such a sweet feeling of human afiection, sooh a cheerfU sense
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3o6 The Radical.
of God's presence, and of a will of His to be done in that homely way, that
the act becomes truly a religious act In short, it is a striking through the
outward service into eternal sentiments, principles, ideas, that brings us
into the sphere of religion ; and that sphere lies close to life. And in de-
voting your Magazine to Religion you mean to say, I suppose, that what-
ever is discussed in its pages will be looked at reverendy as from this
deeper point of view, treated in the light of ideas and prindples. How
much of God's good-will to man do our social customs and institutions em-
body ? How do our Politics, our Trade, look beside His justice ? How
much of His ways and working does our Science reveal ? How much of
spiritual truth is in our Theology, of spiritual beauty in our Art, of spiritual
life and peace in our Worship ?
Passing a bookseller's one day here in Paris, my eye fell upon a little
paper in the window bearing the tide, ^ La Morale Indep^ndante:' I
bought some numbers of it, and found that it was the organ of a movement
here which is somewhat significant and quite in the line of this question of
the true definition of Religion. How extensive the movement is I do not
know ; I find the same four or five names attached to the articles in all the
numbers I have read. But it is of sufficient importance to have attracted
the attention of the church, and a series of sermons has just been preached
against it at Nctrt Dame by a celebrated preacher, the Rev. Father Hya-
cinthe. The system of the " Morale Ind^4ndanU " is, as the name indi-
cates, an endeavor to establish Morality upon its own basis, separated en-
tirely from Theology. You will see the positivest element in it It declares
itself to be not atheistic ; it neither denies nor affirms God ; it leaves the
theological question entirely aside, regarding it as at best purely hypothet-
ical and speculative, a question of man's origin and end, of no practical
value, with no basis of certainty, leading therefore to perpetual controversy
and division. It leaves the religious question, therefore, to the individu^
to settie, each for himself and each dlfferentiy. Catholic, Protestant, Deist,
Pantheist, but calls all to come upon this ground of unity whero all may
agree ; — Morality on its own impregnable foundation in the nature of man ;
morality one, identical, universal ; disengaged from every foreign element.
Every man finds in his nature the fact of a free personality ; with this a de-
mand that his personality be respected by others, and reciprocally an obli-
gation to respect theirs. This fact is the basis of Morality. Generalized
and elevated by the reason, sanctioned by the moral sensibility, idealized
by the imagination, that which was at first individual and egotistic rises to
the sentiment of Duty, to the idea of Right, to the ideal of Justice. It thus
becomes a Power, a Law and an End, impersonal and universal It be-
comes the ground and motive of all private virtues and of all social
progress.
That is good doctrine, I should say. Preach it by all means and every-
where, good fiiends. It cannot but do good to teach men self-respect and
respect for others ; still more to teach them a Law and a Power above their
individual ^[oisms. It cannot but do good to leach them to find in them-
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Letter from Paris. 307
selves a basis for that which should govern their lives.' And believe that
in teaching this you are teaching a Religion. For the moment you have
passed beyond an individual fact into an eternal principle and universal
idea, you have entered the sphere of religion. You may not like the work,
indeed, on account of false notions associated with it For the same reason
you may not like to use the name God. But you are teaching God, for you
teach a spiritual power which ^ though in man^ is yet above him. Knowing
that it is but right and manly fbr men to reluct at a moral law which is
represented in the churches as an arbitrary will of a distant and individual
God, whose detailed volitions are revealed only through a few messen-
gers, and recorded only in the pages of the Bible, you send them to human
nature as to an accessible and certain source. They will find these them-
selves, and something beyond themselves ; a law which leaves them free
because it is their own nature, and which binds them because from that
nature they cannot escape ; a law that is in them and yet is above them,
because they did not make it, nor yet any man, nor can they unmake it ;
because though revealed in the individual, it is perceived to be universal.
It is then truly a Religion which you teach. But it is not all of Religion.
There is in human nature another &ct, another sentiment, another idea,
another ideal ; equally accessible, equally certain, equally universal. It is
ikitfact that by force of his nature man conceives of, reaches out towards,
an invisible Being beyond himself, beyond nature ; it is the sentiment of
reverence, trust, love, dependence towards this being. It is the idea of
Supreme Spirit, of God ; it is the ideal of heaven, a kingdom of God on
this earth or beyond. Make as much as you may of the varying, confused,
contradictory notions that have gathered about them, the grand fact, sen-
timent, idea, ideal remain fixed and essential in human nature, pointing still
beyond it The variations can be matched by the variations which exist
about morals, without impugning in either case the ground of unity, univer-
sality, certainty, existing beneath. Of this fact and its connections science
is bound to take cognizance ; to listen to and sift the testimony of the wit-
nesses, the experts, the saints. Now to the idea of God thus reached — to
this Theology — morality (which may doubtless be investigated and practised
by itself,) readily attaches, not as a " foreign," but a kindred element That
moral something in man which is yet above him — what is it but the pres-
ence in him of the Infinite Justice — of God, working in him and ruling
him in a sweet and natural way — himself and yet more than himself; just
as the forces of material nature work in and rule his body. The law of
right lies not in the arbitrary will of an individual God, but in the very na-
ture and being of the spiritual God. It is not uttered through oracles and
written in statute-books, but wrought into the constitution of things and of
man. In obeying it man is obeying the law of his own nature, and so while
firmly bound is beautifully free, and keeps his manhood and his liberty.
Something like this I should say to the supporters of the '' Morale Inde-
pendanteV (And you n^ay think, so have I run on, that my letter ought to
be sent to that paper instead of the Radical.) It was not, however, ex-
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3o8
The Radical.
acdy this which Father Hjacinthe said to them, in his six sermons or
^ C$nfirencts " at Noire Dame, I went one Sunday to hear him. Though
I went early the crowd was already too great to allow me to get near
enoi^h for easy hearing. The nave of the Cathedral, half way down which
stands the pulpit, was reserved, during these discourses, for men, and was
closely packed, (price of chairs, three cents.) Though but a part of the
cathedral, it is in itself of the dimensions of a good sized church. Outside
of jt in the first aisle between the columns sat men and women ; still further
off in the second aisle was a mixed company, mostly standing ; here you
turn the workman*s blouse, the soldier*s red trousers and blue overcoat, the
schoolboy's half-military uniform, and the black robe of the seminarist ; and
towering above, the preposterous cocked hat, scarlet waistcoat, laced coat
and silver-headed st^ of the church-beadle. It is really a significant fact
that these Conf^nces or lectures should have been so largely attended,
people going an hour before the time to secure seats, and this when they
were of a highly philosophic turn, dealing in metaphysical discussion,
quoting Kant and the like. The preacher I found a man of middle age,
dressed in the brown robe and white, hooded cloak of the Carmelites. His
discourse was extempore, as always here, his manner, as always, animated
and dramatic, with much gesture of the arms and fingers. There is one
curious custom in these churches ; at the end of each portion of his db-
course the preacher pauses, turns aside and loudly blows his nose ; this is
the signal for the whole congregation to do the same. It is no doubt a
relief, and may conduce to quiet between whiles, but the effect is ludicrous
enough to the unaccustomed. The crowd and other engagements pre-
vented my going again. But I read the reports which were published each
week in the <' Morale Indipendante^ and in the little paper which is sold
at the door of the church. He began by saying that " after a year's ab-
sence he found himself before the same audience and in face of the same
error, but both had grown." That error was " not atheism, not pantheism,
those were its two wings ; he would call it anti-theism," for it was virtually
and essentially a denial of the personal and living God ; hence it was dan-
gerous to religion and the church. He granted much to his opponents,
that they were sincere, that there was truth in what they taught It was
the same truth which he taught He, too, believed in the human con-
science, in the dignity of the human personality, in the progress of the
human race. He, too, believed in a moral law written in the human soul,
primitive and behind all revelations. He admitted that morality could exist
separate from religion ; that Right was not right because God willed it, but
God willed it because it was right He spoke of ^ natural prophecy," of
''rational revelation, source of eternal commandments," of ''the word of
God in the heights of the soul," of God as " the living ground of every
thought, the true light, the eternal Christ lighting every man, even the non-
Christian." But after all, of course he came round and brought up with
die Church and the " Word made flesh and the Reason come down to us
in the womb of the Immaculate Virgin." He asserted that, if not intention-
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Letter from P^ris*. 309
ally, yet logically, the doctrine of independent morality was atheism, and
would practically end " in irreligion, and consequently, in immorality." He
quoted Napoleon as saying, <' Man without God ; yes, I have seen him at
work since 1793 ; that sort of man we don't govern, we shoot him down."
To prevent that necessity, " with all the energy of his convictions, with all
the enthusiasm of his feelings, with all the force of his will, in the name of
the Holy Catholic Church, in the name of France and the great future,
which was opening before her, he repelled this independent moralify,^^
And all this eloquence against men who inculcate the practise of all the
virtues, and the building up society on justice and respect for mutual
r^hts ! At the close of the whole, the Archbishop added his words. He
expressed to the people his earnest hope "that their sons at the age of
eighteen and twenty would not count on the maxims of the independent
morality to protect them against the storms of their hearts, but would con-
fide themselves to the church." He warned tbem, " your daughter, sweet
angel of fifteen, will not find that morality suffice to guard her from the
power of her passions ; much better that she believe sincerely, honestly,
simply in the words of her curate ; trust me, that will be much more effica-
cious."
There were two passages in Father Hyacinthe's discourses somewhat
noticeable. One was where he appealed to the Protestants : " I turn to
my auxiliaries, I look into the bosom of Christian Protestantism, I look
into the bosom of sincere Deism, and I say you are my auxiliaries. . Cer-
tainly I do not forget what separates us, but neither do I forget what unites
us. Do you not, with me, believe in the Christ ? Or if not, do you not
bow your soul before the personal and living God ? I do not now look at
the abyss which separates us, I stretch out to you a fiiendly hand, aad I
thank you for the aid which you lend me here and everywhere when I de-
fend religious morality." The other was the declaration in the last . dis-
course that the Roman Church had never imposed its doctrine by force ;
•* Human representatives of the divine sovereignty over conscience, we
come with our teachings, with our sacraments, but we come as suf^liants.
We can enter into the conscience of the peoples by one door alone — that
of 4ree consent. Has the Church ever imposed itself upon men's faith by
any other force than the force of truth and love ? Has the church ever
carried the gospel to unbelieving nations as the Koran was carried, at the
point of the sword ? All history is there^ to say that she has never done itj
all theology to say that she cannot do itP Pretty bold statement, is n't it ?
** The part of the sword in the world," he adds, " may sometimes be — and
those are its happy moments — to defend justice and weakness when op-
pressed in the Church ; it is never to impose the faith on the nations which
repel it Faith, conviction, the free adhesion of mind and heart — how can
the sword attain such a result ? 'T would be a folly and a crime, too, to
attempt it, for if there is, next to the majesty of God, an inviolable majesty,
it is that of the human conscience." Good words, good father ; but to
show that a thing is a folly and a crime is not exactly to prove that the
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Church has never done it And if she has never literally tried to propagate
her doctrine by the sword, her history is there to show how freely she has
used that instrument to suppress dissent and heretical free thoughts, and
her theology is there to justify the procedure.
Father Hyacinthe is, I believe, a disciple of Cousin, who was said to have
been present at the first '^ Conf(^rence f' (but that was afterwards denied.)
The ** Morale Indep^ndante " rather scouts that venerable philosopher, and
declares his doctrine of the '' impersonal Reason " to be an " antiquated
notion that has perished of decrepitude."
I ¥ri8h that I could, in words, convey to you some idea of the grandeur
and beauty of the Cathedral in which these Confirences have been preached.
The vastness of the symmetry ; the massive simplicity, the daring light-
ness ; the vistas of shadow and colored light through the ranged columns,
round and clustered, " the height; the depth, the gloom, the glory," are a
perpetual but indescribable delight To tell you that the church is 390 feet
long, 128 wide, 102 high ; that the great rose-windows of the transepts, set
far, far above your head, are thirty-six feet in diameter, will give you Httie
idea, unless you mentally compare these figures with some building with
whose dimensions you are familiar. There is no church in Paris which
comes near this of I^otre Damty in grandeur and beauty. It was begun
about 1 1 50, and is not yet entirely finished ; which may be a consolation
and encouragement to All Souls. Recent renovations have taken away
from the interior much of the grey time-stain, and given too white a hue to
the stone, of which the whole interior is constructed ; but they have en-
riched it, also, with many new windows of stained glass, and with color
upon the walls of the«ide chapels. A large number of blocks of old houses
on one side of its square iiave just been pulled down to make way for a new
hospital ; the old Hotel-Dieu, which some of your readers will remember
between the church and the river, is to be removed, and a fine view of the
Cathedral will be thus opened. This is but one among a hundred demoli-
tions and rebuildings which are rapidly and entirely changing the aspect of
old Paris. Of some other matters I hope to write you before long.
Samuel Longfellow.
The Lesson for the People. — Mr. Lincoln early recognized and re-
ported a £&ct of the times, when, on his way from Springf eld to the Capitol,
he said : ** If the country is to be saved, the people must save it" He in-
stinctively felt that he was by nature constituted to execute the will of the
people, and not to lead it — or oppose it The leaderless people became
the country's leader; they thought, wrought, suffered, endured, and tri-
umphed ; and will go on triumphing to the end 1 But they must learn to
buy their victory at a less cost ; learn that compromise is cheap at the start
and dear at the end ; that justice may be lised.in afiairs of the State with
economy ; that their enemy can only be converted by their own veracity.
Let them demand ALL that 's Right : in due time it will be granted and
the battle will be over.
« When halfgods co,
The gods arrive.*^ Ed.
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WALT WHITMAN'S DRUM-TAPS*
Said Thoreau : '' The wisest definition of poetry the poet will instantly
prove false by setting aside its requisitions.'' This acute observation has
never been more strikingly proved than by the author of the voliune before
us. The curious and the metaphysical have frequently essayed a complete
and accurate definition of the word poetry; but it would be impossible to
locate within any of their survey-bills, the strange pastures into which Walt
Whitman leads his flocks. And yet the author of " Leaves of Grass," is as
unquestionably a true poet, as the greatest of his contemporaries. He
seems to us more purely permeated with the subtile essence of poetry than
almost any other. It is the air he breathes : the very blood of his arteries.
With others there are wide vistas of unmitigated prose in their view of life ;
to this poet, ever)rthing in the world is glowing with poetic beauty. Objects
which seem so insignificant — so homely and common-place to most of us,
he weaves into his poems. We would not, of course, be understood to say
that a simple photography of whatever objects pass before us answers the
ends of art The hand which holds the pencil is everything ; and all must
be so portrayed that we view them from the poet's own high stand-point.
This answers the artistic end ; and it is vain to deny artistic treatment in
Walt Whitman's poems because they are not constructed in accordance
with canons previously laid down. The true poet discovers new and un-
suspected laws of art, and makes his own rules. If he touches the secret
chords of poetry in our soul, that is the only test, whether we can explain
it to our own understanding or not
" Drum-Taps " contains but few strikingly different, characteristics from
the author's former volume. We are pleased to find that certain features
of that are not introduced in this ; for we are compelled to confess that
there were certain pages of the " Leaves of Grass " which we regretted had
been written. We have written upon the fly-leaf of our copy this passage
from " The Essays : " " Osmand had a humanity so broad and deep, that
although his speech was so bold and free with the Koran as to disgust all
the dervishes, yet was there never a poor outcast, eccentric or insane man,
some fool who had cut off his beard, or who had been mutilated under a
vow, or had a pet madness in his brain, but fled at once to him : that great
heart lay there so sunny and hospitable in the centre of the country^ that it
seemed as if the instinct of all sufferers drew them to his side."
On looking through the pages of " Drum-Taps," and catching the soft
and sweet strains of a sublime tenderness, much more than the martial
music which the title indicates, certain scenes in Washington in the winter
of '63 and '64 recur very vividly to memory ; his meeting soldiers on the
street whom he had nursed and tended —
" Many a soldier's loving arms about this neck have crossed and rested.
Many a soldier's kiss dwells on these bearded lips," —
• Published by the Author : New York.
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312 The Radical.
walks with him through some of the hospitals, where he came a minister-
ing spirit, daily. It was very affecting to witness the adoration which this
divine love kindled. And it was somewhat amusing, too, to discover cer-
tain little myths which were afloat from bed to bed concerning him, for he
was not known among them as writer or poet, and there seemed to be some
mystery attached to his mission.
In this brief notice we have left litde space for some extracts which we
proposed to give. How striking a trope, for instance, is this ! —
" One doubt, nauseous, undulating like a snake, crawl'd on the ground before me,
Continually preceding my steps, turning upon me oft, ironically hissing low."
In vivid word-painting our poet has few equals, as these scattered lines
from " The Veteran's Vision " show :
**The skirmishers begin — they ^erawl cautiously ahead ^ I hear the irregnlar
snap! snap!
I hear the sounds of the different missiles — the short t-h^l t-h4l of the rifle
balls;"
..." I hear the great shells shrieking as they pass ;
The grape like the hum and whirr of wind through the trees." . . .
** And ever the sound of the cannon, far and near, (rousing, even in dreams, a
devilbh exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my soul.)"
B.
FLAG OF STARS, THICK-SPRINKLED BUNTING.
Flag of stars 1 thick-sprinkled bunting 1
Long yet your road, fateful flag! — long yet your road, and lined
\rith bloody death!
For the prize I see at issue, at last is the world I
All its ships and shores I see, interwoven with your threads,
greedy banner!
-^Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest borne, to flaunt unri-
valled?
O hasten, flag of man! O with sure and steady step, passing
highest flags of kings.
Walk supreme to the heavens, mighty symbol — run up above
them all.
Flag of stars I thick-sprinkled bunting !
Walt Whitman.
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THE RADICAL.
MAY, 1 866.
DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
V.
SPIRITUAL NEEDS AND CERTAINTIES.
A FREE INQUIRY into the Foundations of Religious Belief
has led us to the Organic Aspirations and Needs of the Soul
as the one ultimate basis of Authority. These Natural Neces-
sitics yield the axioms and postulates of Religious Philosophy. They
form the substance of Religious Faith. They, and they only, are
God's Guiding Word and Hand.
It is matter of experience that our best beliefs and profoundest
convictions come to us as certainties which we cannot do without
Our needs are our oracles. We cannot help trusting the divination
of our worthiest desires, the insight of our deepest wants. For we
live by faith in the benignity of the laws and tendencies of our nature.
Herein is properly the guarantee of all religious trust, even of that
^ which imagifus itself the child of * supernatural ' evidences. The faith
which underlies it and gives it all it has of genuine assurance, is in
fact no other than this : — We nmst believe that in testifying of its
own real needs, the soul affirms the reality of whatsoever answers to
those needs ; because it must be that we are fashioned wisely and
kindly, rather than anomalously and maliciously. ' Evangelical ' creeds
do not supplement this natural authority, but fall within its jurisdic-
tion as the less within the greater ; and can offer no valid evidence
even for what truth there is in them, which does not depend upon the
devout assumption, that our nature cannot deceive us — that the
indispensable is the real : in other words, upon the ''Benignity of the
Moral and Spiritual Order. The folly of Supematuralism is that it
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314 The Radical.
claims to be the bestower or sole demonstrator of this very truth, which
every one of its arguments must assume as hunvn already. Supernat-
uralism is but the sign that men do not yet perceive the scope and
sense of Nature : that having eyes they see not, and having ears hear
not therewith. As surely as a belief is fitted to meet the positive^ or-
ganic demands of the soul, so surely does there of right belong to it the
certainty that it is true; that it is in accordance with the Facts of the
Spiritual Universe. This relation is vital, essential : to doubt it is to
leave no basis for faith in any process of thought whatever. And it
implies direct sight. It implies that our maturity recognizes J^^ truths
for which we are made. There « a " witness of the Spirit with our
spirit, that we are the children of Go<^ and if children, then heirs."
There is a Natural Science of Belief. And in place of all * supernat-
ural ' evidences and authorities, we lay absolute foundations in its Law
of Spiritual Recognition.
But "is not this a dangerous philosophy? There is scarcely a
form of belief that cannot plead in its own defence a sense of need
How then can religious certitude come from such sense " ? — It is to
be observed that this objection . has at all events no validity on the
lips of a supematuralist : since there is nothing more uncertain than
the historical evidence to which his own assurance appeals : and no
form of belief, however absurd, which has not at some time or other
pleaded miracles in its own defence. But I do not leave the criticism
there. I reply that there is a clear distinction between the wants
that spring from the real unimpeded growth of the spiritual capacities
and so deserve to be implicitly trusted, and those which originate in
a repressed and perverted condition of these capacities and so are
unworthy of such credence. If it be asked how one is to know what
wants come from the higher and what from the lower condition, the
answer is this. Not only do men know when they suppress the testi-
mony of their nature in matters of belief, but they are even wont to
stand upon the doing of this as the essential thing in religion. Afrer
such procedure it is simply preposterous to pretend that the dogmas
at which they arrive represent organic needs of the spiritual nature.
When on the other hand its true voice is heard it will be recognized.
There will be found, not a difficulty of certifying its authority, but an
impossibility of evading it
The distinction just taken is my answer to another objection that
will not fail to be brought against this Philosophy of Faith. It will
be said that our Naturalism has overreached itself, and is condemned
out of its own lips. Nothing, we shall be told, b plainer than the
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spiritual Needs and Certainties. 315
testimony of history, that the demand for a ' Supernatural Revelation *
is just one of those very confessions of organic need, which upon our
theory deserve implicit credence as the voice of the Spiritual Constitu-
tion. Yes, I reply, one thing is plainer. That demand is itself the
consequence of suppressing the exercise of Reason, and reducing Faith
to the condition of a bond slave of physical prodigies. It confessedly
or practically starts from the assumption that our nature is unworthy
of credence and that its laws must be contravened and set aside.
Under such circumstances the expression of organic needs becomes
simply impossible. The demand for Miracle, universal in the lower
stages of spiritual cultiu^, is indeed the expression of a want : namely,
the want of a deeper knowledge of the immutability, adequacy and
benignity of Nature, spiritual and physical. When the husbandman
tries to bring on rain by the power of prayer ; when the heart-broken
mother beseeches God to interpose and save the young life which
nothing but miracle can save ; when, shrinking before an inevitable
duty, you long for some supernatural power to change these stem re-
lations of your sphere, and set you free ; when you yearn to be wise,
or strong, or holy without paying the fair price and treading the ap-
pointed way : — do these impracticable desu-es prove that miraculous
interposition is an organic need of the soul ? Is not the organic need
here revealed a very different one ? Is it not rather the need of learn-
ing that to ask such interference with the natural order is to ask
things at once impossible and needless, since every constant law of
life or death is for our noblest service ?
Again, it will be asked : * Has not the human race everywhere felt
its radical need of a Saviour t Why not trust this implicitly then, in
its highest or Christian form, as the voice of our Spiritual Nature ? *
We might ask with equal consistency : — why not trust it in its other
forms, such as Buddha, Krishna, Zoroaster, or the DeljAic Apollo ?
The call was in each case for some particular Saviour: here is a series,
part mythical, part historical : why should it not be indefinitely pro-
longed, and the need satisfy itself with new members of the series,
now and hereafter, according as individuals shall arise who seem to
meet its demands ? There are many grounds on which we should
refuse to recognize these earlier members of the hallowed Succession
as adequate to satisfy an organic and constant need of the Soul. And
the claim in behalf of the Christian form of belief in an official Sa-
viour, that it at least, meets such organic need of Human Nature, is
at once set aside by the fact that it confessedly forecloses and sup-
presses the voice of Human Nature. It proceeds upon the assump-
tion that the soul is radically diseased and disabled, that the testi-
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3i6 The Radical.
mony of its natural faculties is unworthy of confidence. How then
can the natural demand for ' Christ as a Saviour/ which it alleges, be
trusted, even were it real, as expressing the organic needs of those
faculties? The very structural powers to which appeal is and must
be made here to sustain the charge against Naturalism, are in this,
as in the previous instance, disfranchised and denied in the pre-
mises i
The 'demand for a Saviour ' on which such stress is laid as a fact
of universal experience, has in truth no such meaning as that which
is claimed for it in the so-called ' Christian Scheme.' It is simply the
demand for spiritual help. It b the confession that we must some-
how find God present in our Human Life^ uplifting, guiding, delivering
us. This is the organic need it expresses. Official Saviours, 6og-
mas of Depravity, Damnation, and Atonement, supernatural claims
and exclusive mediatorships, are. but the play of the imagination,
more or less rude and blind, on the surface of this nobler deep ;
purely incidental and transient ; varying with time, place, and spirit-
ual condition ; illusions that serve the purposes of that immaturity
which brought them forth, and then depart : while the sacred oi^ganic
need of Divine Help through the Human remains, and comes at last
to pure satisfaction through the full freedom to speak and to be heard.
It is an organic need for Man that he should believe in the Incar-
nation of God in Humanity ; and the larger the sense of those spiritual,
moral and social relations throi^h which he becomes the manifesta-
tion of God, the more thorough will be the satisfaction of that de-
mand. And this is the significance of all special forms of the belief,
whether lower or higher ; alike of Hindu Avatar and Christian * Word
made Flesh.' But it is /u?/ an orjganic need, to believe that any par-
ticular Individual exclusively and adequately incarnates God, even
though that Individual be Jesus of Nazareth. The aspiration was
not made to provide an official function for this one Saint : he does
but temporally serve the aspiration.
So again : it is an organic need, that men should recognize their
special weaknesses, faults and vices ; the more definitely, the better.
But it is not an organic need that men should believe in that mon-
strous fiction of an undefined natural corruption denominated Sin^
which holds the roots of the Popular Theology, and sends barbarism
tiirough every branch of it Dogmas which start from the disparage-
ment and even repudiation of Human Nature, from the suppression
of Reason and all natural Justice and Love, cannot be allowed to
claim the authority of that very spiritual organization which they con-
temn.
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spiritual Needs and Certainties, 317
• • •
In every genuine belief indeed, there may be detected the effort,
however blind and self-retarding, to meet some real spiritual want :
feeling after God, if haply it may find HinL But groping must not
be mistaken for clear sight : nor the substantial meaning of the soul's
demand measured and interpreted by every special scheme which
claims to supply it Only through freedom and growth can it get
true expression; and find the divine response that awaits it
This is fwt then a 'self-destructive philosophy.' Its claim that or-
ganic needs point to natural satisfactions, and guarantee these through
spiritual recognition, does not concede validity to the current theo-
logical schemes, as r^resmting such needs. It will not do for the Pes-
simism which maligns Human Nature, or the Supematuralism which
slights and supplants its authority, to pretend to speak in its name.
This pretense indeed is sufficiently refiited by the fact, that while
claiming to represent organic needs, these schemes proceed to appeal
to quite another kind of evidence than the perfect assurance which:
properly belongs to what is organic. For the reason can only be, that
they do not know what natural assiu^nce is. How should they ap-
preciate nature? Their effort is to ^preciate it They are ignorant
of its guarantees, because they do not fulfil the conditions under
which these are revealed. It is only when we have learned to con-
fide in the spiritual Constitution as thoroughly in accord with the Di-
vine Order, as essentially sound, and as perfectly adequate to bear
witness of its own needs, that the testimony to these needs becomes
really clear and unn^istakable, the source of an absolute certainty.
To a greater or less extent we all take this benignity and adequacy
for granted. We do so when we act in accordance with the pro-
cesses of our thought We do so when we trust in the uniformity of
natural laws, in the most familiar affairs of life. We rest in our Na-
ture, as our home, unsuspicious of deception, assured that its means
are adapted to its ends, its faculties to their objects. God has. so
constituted us that we cannot help doing so. It is only in the noblest
of our faculties, in the loftiest of our aspirations, that we are apt to put
no faith. It is only the testimony of our nature as to its own origin
and destiny, that civilized men feel at liberty to repudiate. Their
Theology alone is a war on common* sense, and their religion only is
faith in the incredible and absurd. But to one who respects every
faculty, and uses all possible light as divinely sanctioned, the benig-
nity of the Spiritual Nature is a perpetual certainty, and most pro*
foundly so in its teachings concerning matters of highest moment
All nobler longings are expressions of this : all natural vicissitudes,
all overrulings and retributions proclaim it alone, and so are good.
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3i8 The Radical.
If death proves to be a law of our Nature, then it means us well. If
suffering for righteousness' sake is a condition of moral fidelity, then
it is good for us that it should be so. Is slow and patient movement
the law of growth, then that is the best possible way. Is the inevita-
bleness of penalty for selfishness and sensuality a law of our nature,
then it should not be called vengeance, but warning, safeguard, heal-
ing. And if the body perish under its stings, then if that too be ac-
cording to natural law, that also means good, and points to moral
restoration in another life. And this we affirm to be the testimony
of the Spiritual Constitution to its own genuine needs, in distinction
from that spurious testimony to artificial ones^ which is based on the
suppression of natural love and trust toward it, and natural pow^r of
growth within it These reconciling and inspiring truths bear ample
witness of themselves to those who follow the leadings of their souls
faithfiilly enough to learn their infinite need of them. No miraculous
revelation teaches or authenticates them. A resurrection fix>m the
dead two thousand years ago, even supposing it historical fact,
• can have no bearing on their confirmation. The evidence is in the
necessity of a reasonable creature to confide in the benignity of the
laws under which his soul was made to live. But then he must first
come to know what the terms of this statement mean.
And so it is vain to object that there is so much skepticism concern-
ing these Foundations of Belief : that there is so much difference as
respects this testimony of the soul, between different persons, whereas
by the theory there should be the same certainty for all. The theory,
if you choose to call it a theory, demands nothing of the kind.
It is not pretended that the testimony of the spiritual constitution
must be equally clear and equally reliable in all men. It may be im-
peded by false systems of theology, by the follies and superstitions of
ages : by private ignorance, imbecility and vice : by the enslavement
of mind, conscience, will. But what we affirm is this. Whatever
that testimony may be, it is all we have to rest on : and wherever it is
permitted to speak freely and clearly, it speaks with certainty, and can-
not deceive. The fact that the credibility comes only with the higher
moral and spiritual elevation of the individual is no argument against
this basis of Religious Belief. The law is absolute, that the higher
one's spiritual attainment, the more clearly he shall see spiritual
things. What is called * supernatural ' evidence is just as amenable
to this law as the natural evidence we are advocating, and is con-
demned before its tests. Spiritual Intuition is as certain as anything
can be. . But the certainty cannot be given outright. It is, I repeat,
the condition of all true and permanent possession that we pay the
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Spiritual Needs and Certainties. 319
price therefor. Spiritual certainty is the most valuable of all posses-
sions, and has its special conditions. How should we expect to hear
the true voice of the soul, but by the &ithful study and culture of its
powers?
When it b persistently asked \ihaX proof there is that the Foimda-
tions of Religious Belief we would lay down secure certitude, it is nec-
essary to call attention to certain laws applicable to all kinds of tes-
timony whatever.
The weight of a piece of evidence is always according to the pre-
paration of the mind to receive it Luther thought it sufficient to
reply to the argument of Copernicus in behalf of terrestrial motion,
that " the fool wishes to change the whole art of Astronomy : but as
Holy Scriptures say, Joshua commanded the sun, not the earth to
stand still." Not being a mathematician, what should he make of
the diagrams and the calciilations ? He was a theological man-at-
arms, and saw the heavens by the light, or darkness, of the Book of
Joshua. But if scientific evidence cannot be appreciated without
due preparation, neither can spiritual evidence. Self-knowledge and
growth in the inward life are surely necessary to enable one to judge
the value of the one kind of testimony, just as acquaintance with the
law of physical nature is necessary to his appreciation of the other
kind. It seems to be imagined that the experience of persons
absorbed in occupations which exclude all thought concerning their
own moral and religious nature, or in the petty motives and methods
by which all occasions are bent to personal aggrandizement, is compe-
tent to prove that Spiritual Intuition is a fallacy, and that there is
really no such thing as knowing by natural means what our moral
and religious constitution dictates as its essential needs. Yet a man
whose eyes had been bandaged for his whole life would apprehend
no evidence that appealed to his sense of sight : and one whose ears
had been closed as long as he could remember could not judge of
the value of evidence which appealed to the sense of hearing. His
natural senses may be without organic defect But he cannot use
them. And how should any one appreciate spiritual realities who
has been always intent on such things as he can see, touch, and
measure in material ways ? " The chameleon darkens in the shadow
of those who stand over it to ascertain its color.'' So with the facts
of human experience which such an one attempts to judge. What is
bom of the flesh is flesh : only the spirit can bear witness of the
spirit
It is not through any lack of inherent probability that the founda-
tions of belief here presented should fail in commending themselves
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320 The Radical.
to any one. What, I have already asked, can be more reasonable
tiian that the demands of our nature io% religious assurance, should
speak as clearly and confidently as those lower desires which are
concerned only with transient and bodily interests, and whose satis-
faction has nevertheless been provided for in our bodily organiza-
tion ? Is it reasonable to believe that the good Fate which bound
the globes to their orbits and set the world to music, has given over
to mere blind groping the necessities of living souls : that he irbo
made both eye and heart, has made the one to bear true witness
and the other to deceive 1 That the whole spiritual nature calls for
such assurances as for its air and food is overwhelming proof of their
legitimacy. No other revelation half so conclusive is possible for
man. But while we suppress our spiritual functions^ how can our not
hearing such call and not feelif^ such certainties^ be the slightest emdenee
against their reality t How is it possible that they should a4>prove
themselves to such a condition ? How should any evidence of eter-
nal things approve itself thereto ? What authority has he to affirm that
certain becoming instincts, aspirations, needs, do not command cred-
ence, who has not respected them enough to lift an ear to listen to
their voice ?
If then I have called those higher forms of certainty based on the
testimony of the spiritual organization, instinctive^ it is simply that I
might express their originality, their freshness, their certitude. I
mean something very different from an animal instinct, which is
given at once and outright, and comes without thought and purpose.
I have called them expressions of spiritual need. I mean somediing
quite other than a bodily need, which is felt without endeavor. I
call them intuitions. I wish to express thereby their directness and
immediateness of vision, as facts of positive consciousness, not the
result of logic or outward evidences. I do not mean that they are
intuitive in the same sense with those intuitions of God, Duty, Im-
mortality, which are common to all rational beings, and indicate no
special moral or religious attainment They are recognitions rather,
and so may properly be termed intuitions of the second and higher
form. The certainty which they bring can be felt only by those who
have earned it by a more radical and perfect self-acquaintance. It
is the crown of spiritual endeavor. Surely it is not for this reason
the less likely to be well founded. What but this could be expected
to bring out our indispensable needs, and to cause them to speak
with authority ? To whom should they serenely affirm themselves to
be of God, and yield the assiu*ance that comes of knowing that he is
holding by God's hand, but to him who has patiently and trustingly
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Spiritual Needs and Certainties. 321
sought to find them i It is wlten tiie whole being thirsts for some
reconciling power within it, amklst doubts, difficulties, the sense of
weakness, unfitness, or ill desert, that the evidence of such remedial
inspiration becomes irresistible. The soul is like a region where no
rain has fidlen for many months, and the soil is parched and the trees
wiUiering, and the roots of herb and flower wasting in the ground.
And when the rain comes down at last, does not the land drink it in
with a living joy, do not the flowers know it as their deliverer, and
lift their heads to welcome it, and the wildernesses blossom with their
own native glories i As unquesdoningly and gladly does that minimal
soil greet the faith that God is Love and Aat Man is His child. It
asks not by what authority tins quickening rain descends. What
matters it who may be imagined to have first uttered diat truth, or in
what volume of religious literature it is best unfolded ? It comes now
out of the extremity of your needs, or the intensity of your aspiration :
-^ their mward and natural answer. What help could attestation of
ndracle or prophecy give it? Its evidence b in its inherent tender-
ness, its perfect adaptation to a condition of tile soul that must be
met, and deserves to be met, if anything in human experience can so
deserve. It was die greatness of Jesus that he so fully appreciated
this kind of evidence. His recognition of its force was plainly the
cause of that absolute confidence in his own belief, which has passed
with his worshippers for the assertion of official claims ; the source of
that inspiration which ''spoke with authority and not as the scribes.'*
'' Knock and it shall b^ opened to you." ^ If your son ask bread,
will you give him a stone?" ''Your Father knoweth that ye have
need of these things before ye ask Him." " Fear not, littie flock, k
is your Father's goodpieoMure to give you the kingdom."
This was pure faith in the testimony of spiritual needs ; as natural
as it was divine. It did not come in with Jesus. It belongs to the
human soul.
You were once, you say, in utter moral perplexity ; bewildered con*
ceming your duty. You knew not what .course to take, nor how to
assume the responsibilities of a choice of ways. Then came to you
the tender words : ** Consider the lilies and the fowls ; they toil not,
neither do they spin ; yet your Father caretii for them : are ye not
much better than they ? " And these also : " It is vain for you to rise
early and sit up late, and eat the bread of care. The same ye seek
giveth He to His beloved in sleep." They entered your distraught,
disabled spirit unquestioned. It was as if an oracle had spoken,
solving every doubt You took the nearest path; you judged as
wisely and faithfully as you could, and left the rest to God. And l0|
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3M The Radical.
as you lifted yourself to the work, the burden dropped, and you were
firee. So much did Christ and the Bible do for your poor human .
nature, you say. But tell m^ haw came those words to have such
power to convince and inspire you ? Was it that they were uttered
by this or that authoritative voice in ancient time? By no means.
Their sense was already in you. That it should be divinely true was a
necessity for yau^ exactly as it was for those who were bold to utter
them so long ago. Those far off helpers have l)ut given the last
awakening touch to a sleeper who could sleep no more, and whom
every ray and every sound conspired to arouse. Some fit word or
deed awoke them so; and you but repeat their experience. The
sense, the evidence, the command b all in your inward condition, as it
was in theirs ; and you make response in a word or a deed as expres-
sive and as suggestive to others as tiieirs to you. You have come, as
they came, to that point in spiritual growth which only such belie&
can meet ; to that sphere in the Spiritual Universe where such beliefs
are native, and inevitably rule all comers, mastering Jesus, and
the Psalmist, as they master you, simply because those advancing
souls had reached the heights, where diey forever shine as the di-
vinely appointed Light of Human Nature, and dawn on all who climb
thereto. All who ever believed in this light did so because it dissi-
pated their darkness, or because it made life clear, glad, divine.
So of all the truths by which Piety is fed and Love matured. They
come when you have prepared their way by placing your aim and
resting your hope where only they can answer the invincible needs
and yearnings that must arise. To impregnable certainty there is no
other way than this. Jesus knew no other path than the Soul's path ;
as old as truth, as new as this you tread to-day. It is plainer and
more shining as we advance. It b only when reason, conscience,
faith flow together, in free, harmonious use of our spiritual resources,
that the true voice of Nature can be heard ; '' which he who heareth
in the morning," as the Eastern proverb says, '^ may be content to die
before night"
This, then, is the Comer Stone. The faith that is to see Truth
face to face must be a living faith. Let none of us think there is any
royal road to the recognition of spiritual needs and certainties, that
will outflank the intervening hosts of spiritual duties. It b not ne-
cessary that one should be very logical or very learned ; not necessary
that he should know what are called tiie ' Evidences of Christianity.'
It b of small consequence here to have a creed by heart, or to 'give
himself to Christ,' as the popular theology phrases it But it is ne-
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Spiritual Needs and Certainties. 323"
cessary that he should love reality beyond all measure, and seek to
do. righteously ; that he should honor his own spiritual nature, and
freely, honestly, patiendy, joyfully unfold it. So long as one cares
nothing about things invisible and eternal, sees not holiness in the
very name of Nature, treats Absolute Right as a moral insanity, and
judges spiritual realities by material motives and ignoble aims, let it
not be imagined that his orthodoxy enables him in the least possible
degree to discern what are, and what are not, evidences of the divine
truth which he ignores. Let him not suppose that some shrewd de-
duction from the data of his shallow experience, some sudden con-
version by the patent church machinery which turns off so many
revival-saints a year to offend all spiritual decency with their vain-glo-
rious bluster and noisy coxcombry of self-righteousness, is to give him
the capacity to decide that there is no certitude attainable through the
natural testimony of the soul to its own needs. The flesh cannot judge
the spirit The sophists expected to come at the wisdom of Socrates
by the disputatious questioning to which they were accustomed to
reduce all conversation. But that wisdom knew by experience the
conditions of knowledge, and refused to attempt convincing any one
of the Being of God who had not learned to respect his own con-
science, and to seek the truth with all his heart
If we would have positive assurance of Religious Truths, we must
feel the indispensable need of them as our proper and organic sphere.
It is a vain thing for the churches to lay down some royal road of im-
plicit faith by which they are to be transported, ready made, into all
minds alike. Books, teachers, evidences, are vain till we have been
compelled to a natural thirst for the natural springs of eternal life.
Bible, creed, conversion through a supposed official mediator, are
vain exotic substitutes for what nothing but an original discipline and
experience can evoke. They can never be felt so intimately, never
be so near nor so real as the lives and words of living persons ;,
and in comparison with one's own inmost spiritual experience, they.
are remote and shadowy indeed : for it is this which gives the Bible
its power ; and the Life of Jesus must speak to a kindred ejq>erience.
in US, or it is silent and dead forevermore. There is no certitude but.
that which springs from an inward confirmation, fi-om a personal re?-
cognition of that which is eternally natural, and so, divine. It;must
shine out of the nearest circles of our life ; out of friendship, daily
duty^ the order and beauty of Nature, moral and physical ^ the paths
of Eternal Good through the Present Time, and its struggling gen-
eiations.
As one advances in the life one ought to live-^ simplo^ brotherly^
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324 The Radical*
sincere, friee, set to helpful usesj sweet with self-control and open to
all good, childlike towards God and manly towards man, — the spirit-
ual sei)ses will surely become more and more open ; he will look di-
rectly into the Heavens of Truth and the Earth of Uses ; and unques-
tionable assurances of these things shall greet hb souL He shall
know the God in whom his being stands secure and freely grows.
When we put out our hands, we believe we shall feel the object
we would touch. When we arise, we believe our feet will support us.
When we plant, we expect rain and sunshine to fall on tiie seed.
When we see the snows passing, we know the spring days are at
hand. And the spiritual organs will testify as clearly^ when right
self-culture and self-respect have prepared the way, to beliefs by
which we were made to live. The Spirit of Man is the Light of God.
Here are our FoundaHons. All other good things are but Helps ;
all Books of Religious Wisdom, all institutions that bless, not kill, all
educational opportunities, all heroic ipen and women that live or
have lived, all of Nature's beauty, all of Life's riches, all grand Gos-
pels of the Hour.
As History advances, more and more clearly emerge these Eternal
Foundations in the perfect Constitution of the Soul. With every
ancient wrong abolished, comes new appreciation of the truth, that
the human spirit cannot free itself from a destiny more divine than
all revelations have foretold. With every faculty in Man or Woman
set free to find its work, according to its divine intent, comes fresh
assurance that every presentiment which has haunted the dreams of
the great and good, was prophetic, and that it hath not entered into
the heart of Man to conceive the far greater glory that shall be re-
vealed in him. The Soul is Teacher ; the Soul is Revealer ; the City
that hath foundations, whose Maker and Builder is God.
Let me crown Ae inadequate statement here given of the Founda-
tions of Religious Certainty with the marvellous demonstration of
their reality in the experience of this Nation. The invincible Need
which its prophets had proclaimed and its martyrs commended, and
which war had enforced by its terrible gospel, was at last confessed
and accepted. The Great Republic^ cloven to its centre by the bit-
ter strife between its theory and its practice, discovered that one thing
was indispensable to its further continuance on this earth — the Eman-
cipation of its Slaves : discovered at last that it was this for which it
had been blindly groping and struggling through the long, dismal
years of inward contradiction, of feverish, irrepressible agitation ; that
this alone could heal, reconcile, and save. And the instant it felt
dus necessity, day broke on our night of war. There was no more
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The World's Triumphs. 325
doubt about the justice of our cause ; no more anxiety for tfie issue of
the strife ; and magnificent Promises flamed in upon our path, which
not even the appalling recreancy we have since witnessed in the
highest places can annuL It was the Voice of the Spiritual Comsti*
tution which spoke there, and bade the parchment charter take new
meaning from its demands. Nothing but this supreme struggle could
have brought them to clearness, and made them the Everlasting L^ht
by which the nations shall hereafter see the path wherein th^ must
walk. The moment social and political institutions came to be so
organized anywhere in the world as to aUow the free expression of
the moral and spiritual needs of Human Nature, that moment Man
lifted a cry for Universal Brotherhood, which is no less than the Judg-
ment-Trump, awakening the dead, dividing the sheep from the goatSi
and announcing the predestined laws of the New Heavens and Earth.
Behold it is enforced by no voice out of ancient records, or from be*
yond the limits of natural law. It is enforced purely by present ex«
perience, absorbing and conclusive, beyond all cavil, above all diver-
sities of sect or faith. It is the Necessity of Human Nature, which
is the Voice of God. Nor will it suffer us to pause, still less to fall
back at the bidding of any official power or party ezpedi^ury, under
the dominion of the old Atheistic Lie, whose revolt against it has
once been trodden under our feet It will, if need be, goad us with
new compulsions more terrible than the past, till the Democracy of
Brotherhood is thoroughly accepted as the law of individual, social,
civil and political life.
THE WORLD'S TRIUMPHS.
So far as I conceive the World's rebuke
To him address'd who would recast her new.
Not from herself her fame of strength she took,
But from their weakness, who would work her rue.
"Behold," she cries, "so many rages lull'd,
So many fiery spirits quite cool'd down :
Look how so many valors, long imdull'd.
After short commerce with me, fear my frown.
Thou too, when thou against mv crimes wouldst cry,
Let thy foreboded homage checK thy tongue." —
The World speaks well : vet might her foe reply —
" Are wills so weak ? then let not mine wait long.
Hast thou so rare a poison? let me be
Keener to slay thee, lest thou poison me."
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ENCOURAGEMENT.
BY J06BPH MARVIN.
THERE are certain places in human life, certain steps in, the
stairway all men are climbing, where those who chance to
reach them together, meet, always, in a real, noble relation.
And that is where they come into 'the earnest, solemn consciousness
of the need of self-reform.
When men waken out of then- plant-life, and sun-life, into the real
human life, when inherited merit and the spontaneous, easy right-
eousness does not any longer yield the soul content, when with all
its native riches, their spirit does not seem to them yet rich enough,
and they b^gin to aspire for something unattained ; when dirough the
mists they see a summit higher than that on which they stand, and the
truth dawns that there is no end in nature, but that every end is a new
beginning, that there is no joy in mere possession, but only in new
conquest ; when the Spirit, moving eadi one of some litde company,
as they come in from the imperfect world, — from concession, from
folly, from misspent hours, — sa)rs cheerfully, to each, as they sit to-
gether self-convicted, and subdued by real contrition, "Friend go
up higher ! " then, for once, they are knit in a new and true bond.
In such hours men stand face to face. No dogmas clash between
them. They are masked by no deceit Soul meets soul. Recogni-
tion of a common imperfection has. brought them to common ground,
pledges of self-reform awaken mutual cheer.
I have a friend who claima to hold the old theology. Twice fifty-
two times a year he listens to the fiction of the inadequacy of human
power to self reform. Weekly he is informed that the capacities of
the soul are insufficient for its needs. The total spiritual imbecility
of man is the foundation of his tutor's creed. He must be a leaning
willow, — must count on victory through the virtues of a chosen saint.
It will not answer, he is told, to use the victories of Jesus for inspiration,
to stimulate his own ambition, and to awaken faith in his own soul.
It will be idle, he is told, to undertake to bear life's burdens on his
own shoulders, — all vain to seek to fi-own the Satans and the Peters
from his path. He must demean the soul, — must crave blessing3
that he knows he does not deserve, •*- must skulk through life, — must
owe his entrance into heaven, and even the joys of earth, to the com-
passion of a stem king. And my friend thinks he believes all this is
right. But how often does he convince me of the welcome fact that
he does not really believe one word of all this costly fiction. He
tells me in the truest of all language — action — that he is wiser than
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Encouragement. 327
his teacher, that he. is older than the creed, that he knows that life's
business is not leaning on whatever saint or friend ; that the joys of
the present life, and the bliss of the future, are not all undeserved.
For he makes bravest and holiest resolves. If he breaks them, he
does not lose heart He still believes in the soul's ability to triunjph.
He makes each mbtake a new minister of wisdom. Hereby he
shows himself, spite of his fal§e education, a true lover of spiritual wis-
dom and moral character. The soul of all his joys lurks in the path
of duty. Hourly he consults his own moral sense for oracle, asks
before each action, ^' Is it right i " and knows, with an assurance that
no priestly cant can weaken, that hb indwelling sense of right will
always tell him true, if he will strive to follow it
My friend's history is a most satisfactory encouragement And all
men are, in this new epoch, in a measure, unconsciously free from the
stunting influences of false and evil creeds — .
** Thne brings to aU men,
Some undimmed hotira."
The old dykes, the bulwarks, which the world is so bent on preserving,
and which the reformer seems so impotent to remove, are, alter all,
percolated for th^ divine spirit to flow through 3 and though its for*
midable hulks may stand for centuries, they shall present no insur-
mountable obstacle to man's advancement
There is no institution so barricaded, so shuttered, but some rays
of the ideal glory -enter. There are no burdens of false doctrine
on the soul so heavy, but here and there the heart finds whispered
utterance. There are every-day-Ideals, as well as the Ideab of centu-
ries.
When man's intellect is not lighted into such a flame that it can
dispel the mists that hide the truth, God Uluminates the goal itself
and makes its light penetrate his mind, and warm his heart, in rays
of dream and vision, that he may be drawn thitherward, as it
were, by heavenly gravity. The accomplishment of one task brings
^e" perception, and the commencement, of another. And a man's
religion is shown by the eagerness with which he presses on to each
of these new endeavors. The strong man ddig)^h to run a race.
His allegiance to the Present, and his vision of the Future, are the
powers that guard his moral life. It is small matter how low at start-
ing a soul may be, how little it has got by heritage, if it be only
mending. We pardon poverty, but hardly idleness. This is^e age
of self-made men in trade. We must advance to the age of self-deter-
mined charact^.
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TABLETS.
BY A. BRONSON ALOOTT.
" I shall commend to them that would socceasfiilly philosophize, the bdief and
endeavor after a certain principle more noble and inward than Reason itself and
without which reason will falter, or at least reach but to mean and frivolous ends.
I have a sense of something in me while I tlMis spesk, which I must confess is of
to retnise a nature that I have no name for it, unless I should adventure to tenn h
^tivmi Mgaciiy, which is tii^ fint rise of a snocctslbl reason." — Dr. Hemy iimrt.
L
" Who placed thee here, did something then infuse
Which now can tell thee news."
Instinct, the inner sense in man, is onunilar : the critic and diviner of
inspiration : the living witness and voucher of the spirit's revelations in
man and natnre. So the Sacred Books owe their credibility to tiie fzxX of
having been dictated by the spirit to Instinct, and appeal to it as their
sponsor and interpreter. A book written from reason, but reaches reason,
and so fails 6f answering the demands of imagination, conscience, the heart ;
fails of making good its claims upon the assent of the whole mind. Instinct,
being the voice of the Personal Mind, the Spirit, spe^ for the universal
soul to the universal soul, or Person in every man, and to each in the meas-
ure of his receptivity. Moreover, every f^ith has its historic basis, or
ground ; its roots running deep, and piercing the oldest traditions, inter-
twisting its belief with whatsoever Is marvellous in memory, thus feeding
the senses and the soul ; cropping out, also, into an overshadowing mythol-
ogy, answering to the genius of the race, period of its origin and his-
tory.
n.
Revelation is suited to the mind of its recipients in answering meas-
ure. 'T is proximate, tentative, the more, or the less ; the oracle of a period
sometimes convicting his predecessor of errors in its interpretatioas, to be
himself corrected by some successor in turn. Impossible, in the nature of
conununication itsef^ that it should fall otherwise ; since the whole of truth
is commensurate with the whole of being, and our blindness disqualifies
from perceiving the whole at a glance. Hence this mending of the spectai-
des age after age, to suit the eyes of the advancing people.
m.
Now the age of insight seems fast meeting that of observation and ex-
perience. Using no longer contentedly the eyes of a circuitous and toiling
logic, man is serving himself by the aids of direct intuition, the Presence
and the vision. New eyes are found for discerning the old things, new In-
struments displacing the old implements. A subtler analysis, a more
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Tablets. 329
sweeping Synthesis, is practiced, a broader generalization of the facts ac-
cumulated upon the mind ; the adventurous genius of our time being tasked
as never before. The culture of the world indicates that soon the spirit's
accounts shall be rendered from all quarters of the globes of mind and mat-
ter, and the book of Revelation posted to the latest date.
IV.
An instinct and a life personally inspired, religion is best inculcated by
Personal persuasions, living examples. It has doctrines, to be sure, and
creeds, but these must be warmed into significance by life. Religion is a
life above the senses, and a light to these. If eyes are wanted to perceive,
eyes Aust be created for seeing, since only as we are in the Spirit can we
divine the Spirit* s teachings.
V.
The message is of more importance to us than the messenger who brings
it Still more important is the divining instinct that reads its significance
when delivered. The Spirit is superior to Bibles : is their inspirer, scribe,
interpretor. Instinct and inspiration include whatsoever man is and knows.
Who but these Christs shall interpret the Christs to mankind ?
VI.
Inspiration must find answering inspiration ; nor imless the senses are
thus opened, and the light fall from the spirit upon the page, is there answer-
ing illumination, though it were the Sacred Text upon which the eye rests,
and the mind ponders. It takes a m^ to spy a man ; an inspired soul to
translate the text of the inspired book, and interpret the revelation after it
is written. Eyes are. seers ; without them the page were blank. What shall
the owl make of St John's Gospel ? ** If thou beest it," says the oracle,
"thouseestit"
vn. •
Christianity does not conflict with Platohism, but complements it And
cultivated Christians in all times past, have gladly owned their indebtedness
to Plato. Every student of Plato must perceive the nearness of his genius
to that of Christ ; of whom he, too, was forerunner and herald. Christian-
ity absori)s the best of Platonism : the Greek and Hebrew life flowing as a
blended stream in the veins of our Saxon body of Divinity. One must hear
St John speak to catch the accent of this blended doctrine. St Paul came
late to his conversion, and remained the Roman to the last Peter was
hardly delivered from his fery bigotry, and St James is plainly the arch
come-outer of his time. The pure Christian is a soul in grain, and of gen-
tle blood
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Ministering angels to the imprisoned soul.
From an;Unpubushed Poem.
The bread of life we bring, immortal Truth,
The wine of life, pure joy of Love, we bear ;
Eat, famished heart, regain thy god-like youth,
Drink, arid soul, and thy lost hopes repair.
Yet luminous aethers hold the hills of heaven.
Yet breathew its meadows unexhausted balm,
Yet, shining 'mid the groves at mom and even,
The wise with wise have speech in regal calm. '
O unforgotten, how couldst thou forget?
O claimed of heaven, claim thy birth divine.
O heir to all things, why in misery yet?
Put forth thy palm, the very stars are thine!
In each, in thee, would fain Existence flower.
We come to quicken all thy death to bloom,—
Make live in thee all grace, all peace, all power:
Fling wide tiie heart-gates! give thy brothers room!
D. A. W.
PREPARED TO DIE.
BY CHARLES K. WHIPPLE.
IN the delusive ^d pernicious epidemics popularly called ''revivals of
religion," — delusive and pernicious not because they teach religion,
but because what they inculcate under that name i^ chiefly supersti-
tion, a system neither honorable to God nor useful to man, — the hold
which the managers have upon the managed comes chiefly through their
artful use of the inquiry — Arc you prepared to die ?
Considering the circumstances that attend, and the circumstances thai
have preceded, these revivals, it is by no means strange that they should
poweriiilly afiect a large number of those who come within the sphere of
their contagion. The arrangements for them being as elaborately made as
those for any other drama, the manager generally skilful in his functions,
the actors well acquainted ¥rith their parts, and the audience ready and
willing to be impressed, it would be strange if the desired eflect were not
produced in a considerable number of instances.
It is needful to say here that, in using the words " managers,*' '' drama,"
and ''actors," and the adjectives "skilful" and "artful," I by no meant
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Prepared to Die. 331
design to impeach the seriousness and earnestness of those who labor in
getting up ''a revival "; without doubt they mean to do good and think they
are doing good That which I wish to caJl attention to is the unquestiona-
bk fact that in arranging for ^ a revival,'' they as carefully set in motion
the human machinery suited to produce the desired end, as the ship-builder
when he lays his keel, or the house-builder when he engages and directs
his workmen. The difference between the two is, tiiat when the ship and
the house are finished, the builders adcnowledge their own agency, and do
not refuse praise for such skill or effectiveness as they have shown ; but,
when the '^ revival " has run its course, and secured a crop of converts for
the church whose minister and members have been laboring weeks or
mondis to accomplish this very end, these diligent laborers with one accord
set up the cry — <Mt is M^ Lonfs doing I " " Not unto us, O Lord, not
unto us, but unto thy name be the praise of this work given ! "
Are they dishonest in thus saying ? It would be both uncharitable and
unjust to affirm it Their religious system requires them to say so ; and
requires this, moreover, as an act of £uth, not admitting any testimony of
reason in regard to the matter. When a Roman Catholic repeats to us the
doctrine of his church respecting the real presence in the eucharist, though
we utterly disbelieve the doctrine, we make no question of ^^ sincere belief
in it And the doctrines of the Orthodox church are, on system, as en-
tirely independent of reason as those of the Catiiolic church. Our percep-
tion that a diogma is £Use or absurd must not prevent us from recogm'zing
their sincere belief in it as a ^t
I have spoken of tiie arrangements jM^paratory to '' a revival of religion ;"
arrangements adapted and intended to enlaige the church by the abstrac-
tion of as many individuals as possible from ^* the world." The general
course of measures to this end is the following :
The minister, like any other skilful user of instruments, first sees that
his tools are in good order. He arouses his church to the necessity of vig-
orous and combined Exertion. If they seem deficient in zeal, he seriously
sets fortii the sinfulness of such kudty, and proposes to them " a season of
fiwting, humiliation and prayer," which they agree to cts a matter of course*
When, met togedier for this purpose, they accuse themselves (also a matter
of course) of coldness, unfidthfulness, hardness of heart, and ingratitude foB
the favor of having themselves been plucked as brands from the burnings
the pastor seises his opportunity, and demands that they set themselves
seriously to .the work of saving more sinners from the doom which the
church creed assumes to be impending over them. He points out the need
of a revival, first from general considerations, and next from special cir-
cumstances of the dme and place, and then demands an expression of the
feeling and sentiment of the church on that subject, aff^ they shall havs
united in prayer with Deacon EldermaH.
Those who have attended such meetings know of coui-se what the prayer
of Deacon Eldermaa will be. He may be full of interest and zeal in the
came, or he may not; but he cannot refuse to pray when called on, and his
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33^ The Radical.
prayer will of course be an echo of die proposd made by the minister, a
proposal which, according to their creed, is always in order, always timely*
always desirable. All the power of expression he has will be applied in
aid of the proposed measure. Deacon Steady follows in the same keyw
He can do no otherwise, even if he felt individually indisposed to the
measure. Opposition to such a proposal is not to be thought o£ E^/erj
one who speaks agrees that they need a revival, that they ought to labor
for one, and that if they do their part, God will do his. So it is decided—^
the vote may be small or large, but it is without dissent — that they will
labor to arouse the ^ perishing impenitent sinners ** of the congregation to
an interest in the salvation of their souls.
The first measure is a series of church prayer-meetings (to comj^ete the
sharpening of the tools) and a general understanding that church-members
are to arouse the sympathy and bespeak the aid of members of '* sister
churches," while the pastor takes the same course with his neighboring
^ brethren in the ministry." To all these, of course, the proposal is accept*
able, and they apply themselves to the work of sharpening their tools*
After these measures have been in progress a while, it is a^eed that each
church-member sliall speak privately to such of his or her " impenitent "
friends as seem most likely to be susceptible to impression, and inquire
whether they feel themselves " prepared to die," and whether they will not
at once make an effort to '' obtain salvation." As the brethren and sisters
assemble from time to time in dieir church prayer-meetings, they mutually
encourage each other by reports (with or without names) of such of these
Interviews as have had successful or promising results, and when a suffi-
cient number of outsiders are known to be ''under concern," the next
measure is to appoint prayer-meetings to which all are invited.
These the minister notifies from the pulpit on Sunday, intimating (as if
it were a piece of news that had just reached him) that several in the con-
gregation are known to be feeling '' an unusual interest in the salvation of
their souls," that there is good hope that ^ the Lord will visit them," and
that '* a work of grace " is about to commence, and that it is desirable that
all who feel themselves " not prepared to die " should embrace the oi^xw-
tunity now to be offered. He then preaches a sermon suited to arouse so-
licitude or alarm among ''the unconverted," and urges all, both "saints
and sinners," to attend the prayer-meedng.
It must be remembered diat the ordinary Sunday services in Orthodox
meeting-houses are always tending more or less strongly towards this re*
suit It is assumed there as a matter of course that death, to one out of
the church, or uninsured at the salvation-office, is inevitable and eternal
ruin ; that death may come at any moment, and without warning ; tiisrt he
who dies goes " to meet his God " (as if God were not now and alwajrs pres-
ent with every one ! ) and that, to him who " dies unconverted " God is the
,most dangerous and dreadful being in the whole universe. And these as-
sumptions are so constantly repeated that they stick, by the mere efiect of
repetition, in the ears of many besides those who seriously apply theoH
selves to the work of escaping from the threatened doom.
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Prepared to Die. 333
Tfans a certain number in the oongregation are genuinely interested to
attend the prayer-meeting, to secure their own escape from the wrathful
God to the merciful God. But, moreover, the whole assembly are inter-
eeted to know who are these members o( their own body who have newly
fidlen '^ under concern," and who are cherishing unwonted anxieties, hopes
and fears, while going about with their usual £M:e8 in their daily business.
Pertiaps the prayer-meeting will reveal the secret, hitherto so well kept*
So, from one motive and another, the prayer*meeting gets a large at*
tendance.
Half the work of the projected '' revival " is now done. The problem was
to get the impenitent, the unconverted, "the world," to attend the prayer-
meeting, and voluntarily subject themselves to the influences there to be
nsed. As soon as they consent to do this, from whatever motive, the har-
dest for the church (greater or less) becomes a matter of course.
The vestry being filled with this mass of clay, o£fering itself to the manip*
vlation of the potter, the work commences. Prayers are prayed, hymns are
sung, exhortations are made, all suited to impress the imagination of those
who are living without ^^ 9k proftssion of religion,'* with the idea that God is
dangerous to them ; that there is the most urgent need for them to flee from
*^ His wrath ;" that they are all living under condemnation, and only waiting
for execution ; that any day, any hour, any moment, while they delay, the
fearful messenger may come ; that their only hope lies in at once securing
. a reprieve, by compliance with the church's interpretation of the Wrathful
One's conditions ; and finally, that this may be the last merciful opportu-
nity ever granted them, and that the angel of mercy may be lingering only
a few moments more for their final decision.
During this address and the singing of the dreadful " Judgment Hymn,''
which is* likely enough to follow it, the thoughts of the assembly are busy
with themselves and their friends and acquaintances. Each wonders
whether he (or she) is supposed to be one of the persons " under concern ;"
whether the occupant of the next seat, with such a serious and solemn
aspect, is one of them ; whether Thomas, or Susan, usually so gay and
joyous, is one of them ; whether to any one of those present it is really the
last opportunity ; whether a rejection of this partic^dar call may not be (to
him or her) "the unpardonable sin ;" whether the family at home will not
watch his (or her) countenance after the meeting for some mark of an " im-
pression " produced there ; whether Cousin John, who lately wrote from
Andover that she ought to be making preparation for death, will not think
of her as soon as he reads the account of the revival in the Recorder ;
whether Cousin Jane, who told him last week with such tender interest that
he lacked only one thing, will not anxiously watch his £(ice the next time
they meet ; 2uid finally, since hell is inevitable without this awkward and
painful process of conversion, whe^er it will not be less distressing (as
wdl as safer) to seek it now with the multitude, rather than at some future
time ak>ne«
More prayer-^meetings are held, alternated with sermons or prok>nged
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334 The Radical.
^hortations suited to awaktn anjdtty and ftbrm. Sometimes printed In-
vitations are distributed to persons deemed promising subjects for the 1a«
flnence in question, or to those whom the church or individual friends, wish|
for special reasons^ to be moved in this dhrection* Thus the foUowinf no^
tice was printed and privately distributed by members of Dr. South-sidd
Adams's church in this city in February last, when they were taking meaa*
ures for a revival :
"SALVATION FREE TO YOU, TO ALL I
In these days of expectation and prayer for the presence and power of the Holy
Spirit of God to bless our city, special services will be held in the
Essex Stkbbt Chvrch.
Union revival preachmg every Sabbath evening at 7 i-a o'clock, by the most
distinguished Clergymen of the Congregationa], Episcopal, Baptist and Methodist
Churches. All the seats are free, and a cordial invitation is given to you, to aH^
'<Come 1 take the waters of lift freely.**
Prayer Meetings^ Wednesday and Friday evenings^ 1-4 before S.
These meetings are devoted to earnest prayer for the coming of the Holy Spirit,
and for the manifestation of God's power in the hearts of all. Open to all lor
whom Christ died, saint and sinner, old and young, rich and poor. " And th*
Spirit and the Bride say cornel and let him that heareth say come I and let him
that is athirst come 1 "
Sunday Morning Service at 10 1-2 o^clock^ Afternoon Service at 3 o^elacki
Seats in the Galleries freb to all throughout the year. Here is offered to you a.
free church, a free gospel and a free salvation : will you reject it ?"
Wonders will never cease. Here Is the unrepentant advocate of slavery
offering a free church, a free gospel, and a free salvation to all who w^
submit themselves to his spiritual yoke 1
After a succession of meetings and manipulations like these, and when
the required ** impression " has been obviously produced upon a suffident
number of persons, the next stage of the process is brought forward, and an
** inquiry meeting " is appointed.
The ^ inquiry-meeting " gives greatly increased facilities to the maiH^pcn
of a revival. Their preachings and exhortations during the previous stage*
must be conjectural and experimental to a certain extent They have good
reason to suppose that certdn classes of minds, and certain grades of cr»».
dulity and pliability are present in their meetings, and they speak to and at
those, not without success. But when the fly walks into the spider's
parlor, and voluntarily seats himself in the operating chair, the case is
much improved — for the spider. Now an inside view of the victim mMf
be obtained. He unbosoms himself freely, reveals his doubts, his fean, bis
weaknesses, his wishes, and gives eveiy advantage to the skilful opeiatov
by his side, who can then tell what string to pull, what chord to touch, tor
complete his transmutation from a worklUng to a churchliAg.
He is in a very dangerous position who goes a second time to the in*
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Prepared to Die. 335
qairy-meeting. If he escapes after that, it is by a very narrow chance, or a
very timely interposition of Providence.
The main power of these ^ revival measures," and of the prayer-meetings,
which are their chief means of operation, springs from a popular accept-
ance of the clerical theory that death is dangerous. We know that it is
frequently attended by bodily suffering and other distressing circumstan-
ces; we know the sadness of the temporary separation from relatives and
friends which it brings ; we know that labors, the continuation of which
seems very desirable for human welfare, are sometimes suddenly cut short
by it, and that its sudden occurrence sometimes leaves the worldly afiairs
ci the departed in a state of undesirable confusion ; but the clerical theory
above alluded to further assumes — and assumes confidendy, dogmaticallyi
as if it were something quite settled and certain—- that death alters the re«
lation subsisting between men and God. It assumes that as soon as their
mortal bodies have ceased to live, the position of God towards the spiritual
occupants of those bodies becomes immediately changed in this immensely
important particular, that — whereas He was before full of tender affection
for His human children, long-sufiering, ready to pardon again and again,
making his very chastisements remedial, adapted and designed to attract
the offender to better courses, welcoming and assisting every effort at
amendment, and desirous above all things of the improvement and the
permanent welfare of men, women and children — as soon as their bodies
die, if that change finds them below instead of above a certain spiritual
grade. He ceases to assist, and even to desirp, their improvement and wel-
fere ; He becomes severe, rigid, implacable ; He treats these, the objects
formerly of most affectionate care and solicitude, not only as worthless —
poor pottery for which smashing is the only appropriate treatment — but
fit objects for horrible and permanent vengeance ; making each earthen
vessel /eel itself smashed, and then feel its firagments dum forever and
ever.
This is the clerical theory. Death is dangirous. Its sudden coming is
to be seriously deprecated by all, saints as well as sinners ; for the saints
themselves are poor, weak, &llil^ sinful beings, full of corruption and de-
filement, and constantiy backsliding from sainthood ; their own auto-biog-
n^hies, their published diaries, their stereotyped confessions in the prayer*
meeting, all tell us sq ; therefore, if death comes in the course of one of
these backslidings, or between any act of sin and the repentance that would
probably soon have followed it, the policy of soul-insuiance Js forfeited, and
the ofiender has hopelessly fiaUen from the position of saint to that of '^ im-
penitent smner ;" a dass to whom death (on the clerical theory) is not
merely dangerous but ruinous, in the most fearful sense of that fearful
word.
When the " impenitent sinner " dies, God ceases (according to the horri-
ble clerical theory) to desire either his improvement or his wel^e. Sup-
posing him after the death of the body — a day af^er it, or a year after it, or
a hundred years after it — to wish to grow better, to wish to turn away firom
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33«
The Radical.
Bin aod aspire after holineas, to resolve to make right instead of wrong hia
choice during the rest of his existence-^ all thb (according to the horrible
clerical theory) is a matter of utter indifierence to the God who made him.
It has been decided that he is hopelessly to roast to all eternity, quite irre*
spective of any desire or attempt on his part to grow better. On earth and
in heaven, virtue is said to be its own reward ; but in hell (according to the
horrible clerical theory) right desires and right actions will have no better
effect than wrong ones.
Is there any reason for believing this theory? Not the slightest It
rests solely on the assertion of the Orthodox clergy ; and it happens (a little
awkwardly for them) that the popular acceptance of this theory as true is
the chief means of filling their meeting-houses and paying their salaries.
Is there any reason for ^believing this theory, rejecting it with horror,
and declining to be the followers and pupils of those who teach it as one of
the central truths of religion ? A just view of the character of God — one
that shall recognize His justice and His goodness as mutually co-operative
and not antagonistic — one that shall recognise Him as free from the ca-
pricious favoritism in this life and the spirit of implacable vengeance be-
yond it, which the popular theology imputes to its god — one that shall
represent Him as truly, and at all times, the appropriate object both of love
and reverence — one that shall jusdy entitle every human being to think of
Him as Father and Friend, alike in this world and beyond it — one that
shall always and everywhere combine the immense advantages of stimu-
lating the child to self-improvement, and attracting him to communion with
the Father — and finally, one that shall assume as certain, and never for a
moment allow a doubt, that the ultimate success of God's work in the crea-
tion of man will be commensurate vrith His perfection, that is to say, hon-
orable and glorious to Him in every particular, and blessed and beneficent
to every man, woman and child of His human hmWy — sucA a view of the
character of God, I say, will give us the true answer to the above question.
To glance first at the point last mentioned above — God's success in the
administration of human a£^s — the view of it taken by the popular the-
ology (which is the source of that false estimate of death of which I am
speaking) is briefly and accurately expressed in a verse of one of Dr.
Watts's hymns, as follows :
** So sprung the plague from Adam's bower,
And spread dettmction all abroad ;
Sin, the curs'd name, tAa/ in otu homr
Spoiled six da^f^ lab9r ^ a Gitd^^
Is it not amazing that this verse, with many more equally libellous and
irreverent in the same book, should still be sung by many congregations
that call themselves Christian, '*to the praise and glory " of this same god,
who, though represented as " almighty," had his purpose and his work dius
foiled by the intervention of a hostile power ! But such are the absurd and
monstrous theological ideas in which the great majority of our American
people are educated by their clergy.
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Prepared to Die. 337
If we would keep clear, in our estimate of the Heavenly Fattier, afike from
irreverence and absurdity, we must assume, as a matter of course, that His
work was never spoiled, either by sin, or Satan, or any other being or
power. The true God is never defeated, never disconcerted. It never
"repented Him that He had made man." It was not He who worked six
days so hard that He ^ was refreshed ** by resting on the seventh ; it was
not He who, after having made man, and pronounced him *' very good,"
found him one day so damaged by a £^11 (which incurably lamed both him-
self and all his posterity,) that a supplementary '^plaa of salvation " had te
be arranged for his benefit ; it was not He who, finding that his wotks had
turned out ill, got mad and cursed them — cursed the serpent, cursed the
ground, cursed Cain, the child of his child ; it was not he who, over and
over again, vras obliged to make new arrangements for the prevention of
newly arisen and unexpected dangers *- to turn Adam out of Eden " lest
he put forth his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for-
ever " — to drown out, subsequently, the whole populatk>n of the earth,
except a few favorites ; and to prevent, yet later, by a miraculous trick, the
building of a tower as high as heaven, and the further dangerous designs
of the men who had begun that enterprise ; it was not He who proposed to
Abraham to kiU his own son, for the express purpose of ascertaining
whether a special command (and that to do a cruel and unnatural thing)
would avail to overcome the general command &f the same being that no
parent should injure his child ; it was not He who capriciously chose t»
love Jacob and hate Esau even before their birth, and whose resolution re-
mained unaltered by the fact that the latter turned out to be the better maa
of the two ; none of these things, I say, were done by the true God, though
sdl of them (and many more as bad) are ascribed by the clergy to the
imaginary deity of the p(^ular thec^gy — an attempted cemhination of the
Hebrew Jehovah with the true heavenly Father.
Why do we assume as a matter of course, an absolute cevtaisiy, that the
heavenly Father did no one of the things above rehearsed, all of which
(and many more as bad) are ascribed in the Hebrew Scriptures to the He-
brew deity, Jehovah, and all of which are assumed by our depgy te have
been really done by the true God ? We assume it because Uiese things are
unworthy of God ; because the excellence and perfection of God are to be
taken ios granted as axioms, in opposition 1o which the word of no man ob
set of men is to have the sl%htest weight ; because it is unspeakably, infi--
nkefy more probable that the writers of the old Hebrew records (and the
people who have blindly folk>wed in Iheir «teps from Ifiat time to the pres-
ent) should have fallen into error, than that GOD should have the imper-
fections, deficiencies and faults, and should have done ^ foolish and evH
things there ascribed to Him. We absolutely refuse to think ill of God»
and no assertions or assumptions, either of old records In the paat, or of
priests or parsons In the present, shaU for a moment induce us 4o think ill
of Him.
If the absolute perfection of God Is to be taken for granted, then itfol-
3
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33$ The Radical.
lows that, of any two suppositions in regard to His character or His admin-
istration, Ma/ one is to be preferably taJcen which is at once most homna*
ble to Him and most beneficial to His creatures. This rule, of course, will
not teach us everything concerning God, but it will enable us immediately
and confidently to decide some questions. For instance :
One person conjectures that the heavenly Father will exercise the quali-
ties belonging to that tender and beautiful relation — love, patience, long-
suflfering, support and encouragement when those are most needed, and
remedial chastisement, designed and suited to reform the offender, when
that is required — up to a certain point in the life of some human beings,
and then no longer, as far as they are concerned ; but that thenceforward
He will be to those persons the worst enemy in the universe, not only re-
gardless of their wants, unmindful of their complaints, careless of their suf-
ferings, and indifferent to their welfare and improvement, but bent upon
actively tormenting them with the acutest sufferings for ever and ever.
Another person conjectures that, however obstinately bent upon evil
some men may seem to be in the three or four score years of their life here
— as this earthly life is only the beginning of their existence, and as God
must be supposed to prefer (other things being equal) that they should be
holy rather than evil beings throughout eternity, and as His wisdom and
skill are infinite, and His resources boundless, and He has all eternity to
work in — that He will employ this wisdom and these resources, in the
period following this earthly life, in such processes of education, and such
remedial and corrective discipline, as shall sooner or later attract every one
of these immortal souls sincerely to the choice of good instead of evil, so
that they will thenceforth appropriately belong, forever and ever, to the
class called redeemed, sanctified, glorified, and so the holiness (and conse-
quent happiness) of the entire human race, without a single exception, the
noblest possible monument to the honor and glory of their Creatw, be tri-
umphantly secured.
We may suppose anything. Here are two suppositions. Which shall
we accept as the more probable ? Is there any suiBScient reason for adqdt-
ing one and rejecting the other ?
There is this sufficient and conclusive reason for accepting the second
and rejecting the first, namely : the second is not only worthy of God's
greatness and goodness, and eminently honorable and glorious to Him as
well as beneficial to his human offspring, but, in relation both to Him and
them, it is the very highest and best result that it is possible for us to con-
ceive \ the first (even if we abstain from characterizing it with positive terms
of condemnation) is certainly less honorably less glorious, less productive
of that holiness, and its attendant happiness, which all agree to be God's
present desire for men. This consideration settles the matter. God, being
perfect in all excellence, must prefer, and being infinite in wisdom and
power, must be supposed able to accomplish, that which is best, high-
est, noblest, in that eternity which spreads alike before Him and His chil-
dren. Of any two suppositions ifriiatever, ^at which is at once more hon-
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Prepared to Die. 339
«
orable to Him and more beneficial to man may certainly be counted on as
nearer the truth.
. I have stigmatized the ordinary clerical statement in regard to this matter
as an unproved assumption. Will it be said that my own assumption, being
also unproved, stands on the same footing as the other ? I reply that two
statements, one reverential and the other dishonorable to God, cannot pos-
sibly stand on the same footing. God's gifts of reason, and conscience,
and the sense of discrimination between fitness and imfitness, absolutely
forbid that we should regard these two statements as equally probable, or
as standing on equal terms in any manner, for a single moment No sup-
position imputing evil or folly to the heavenly Father is for a moment to be
admitted, or even entertained as a matter of question. The clerical theory
is condemned and ruled out of court by its own inherently vicious charac-
ter. An infinitely wise God certainly will not give up as worthless the
creatures on whom He has seen fit to bestow immortal souls and moral
sensibilities. An infinitely good God certainly will not abandon to sin that
which He can reclaim to holiness by taking a day or two more (a thousand
years or two more) to do it in.
By these considerations the way is cleared for our inquiry into the true
significance of what is called "death," and the amount of preparation^
any) necessary for man (in his relation to God) to meet it
Death is a severance of the connection between the man and his body.
The body dies, the man continues to live. The clergy talk gravely about
a man, when his body dies, going " into the presence of God ! " They
might as well talk of his going into the presence of God when he takes off
his clothes every night to go to bed ! Was he ever, for a moment, out of
the presence of God ? Has he not, firom the very beginning of his exist-
ence, been thoroughly and absolutely in God^s presence, and under His
supervision, and within His control ? This must be admitted, even by the
people who teach (and make a profit of) the contrary doctrine. The laying
aside our fleshly garments, then, will not bring us more into God's pres-
ence or under His power, than we were before ; it will change neither our
characters nor God's character, nor yet the relation between the two. He
will still be the heavenly Father ; we shall still be His offspring, created
according to His pleasure, and of course for some purpose accordant at
once with an almighty Father's power, and with an affectionate Father's
love. It is absurd and unjustifiable to suppose otherwise.
Certainly, it is nothing new, or strange, or startling, to say that God
wishes men to choose right rather than wrong, good rather than evil, holi-
ness rather than sin. What I say is that this admitted preference of His
does not change, nor tend in the slightest degree to change, when the man's
mortal body drops off from him, and ceases to be a part of him. God is
unchangeable! Most certainly, then. He will not change from good to
evil ; most certainly, the death of man's body will'not diminish His desire
that the man himscdf should have right desires, a right will, right affections
and purposes ! Wishing this, then, He will certainly continue to use the
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340 The Radical,
means towards it, and will i^jscessarily provide for Mch soul, in some oae
of His " many mansions,'' that combination of tuition and discipline which
is suited to lead it towards good and away from evil ; to renew, in some
form, the lesson which, we must conclude, the experience of this world is
meant to teach, that good seed produces good fruit and evil seed evil fruit
Obviously, great numbers of human beings leave this stage of their eternal
existence without having learned this lesson. Some have £uled to leam it
through immaturity, some through weakness, some through wickedness ;
but whichever of these is the actual cause of failure in the case of any indi«
vidual, the facts remain unchanged that it is desirable for him to leam this
lesson, that the unchangeable God still wishes him to leam it, that the All*
wise will still provide for him appropriate means of instmction and disci*
pline, and that the loving Father will bless and aid all his attempts to use
such means. Not one of these points can be impugned without an impu*
tation, irreverent or calumnious, or both, against the heavenly Father. To
say that He favors, and will assist, all human efibrts to do right, in what*
ever planet, world, or stage of existence, is honorable to Him. To say that
He will care less in the next stage of existence for human improvement,
and that He will provide less for the connection between improvement 'and
welfare, is to be unjust and irreverent towards Him.
From all this it inevitably follows that the relations of God to the soul
and of the soul to God continue absolutely unchanged after the death of the
body. Wrong-doing after that point, as before it, will certainly prove injiH
rious ; right thinking, right feeling, right action, will certainly prove benefi-
cial As before death, so after, he who does, speaks, thinks evil^ will
assuredly be worse off for it, and he who loves and seeks good will assur-
edly be better off for it This is the lesson which, we must suppose, God
means to teach us, theoretically and practically, in the course of that never-
ending existence which we are to share with Him. Have you not learned
it yet ? Not this month, not this year, not in this earthly life ? So much
the worse for you. The work remains to be done, and until it is done ]rou
^1 to obtain the welfare which God has placed within your reach. Every
postponement of this work is not only a positive loss to you, but a wander-
ing astray, the course of which you must painfully retrace before reaching
the goal. If you have conceived or been taught so wrong an estimate of
God as to fear Him, and avoid instead of seeking communion with Him,
you fail (for the time) of securing the greatest advantage, of enjoying the
highest blessing. This is the lesson that you are to leam, the abiding con-
sciousness that God is the tenderest of fathers, the best of friends, £ur
rather to be trusted, confided in, resorted to, than any human friend. While
you remaun without recognizing this truth and acting in conformity with it,
in this world or in any other, so much the worse for you. That *s all I
Is such a being to be feared ? Is the surest of helpers, the tenderest of
lovers, to h^ feared? His rod, and His staf!i both of them are used for our
comfort and welfiure. The more one is involved in need, pressed down by
guilt, surrounded with difficulty, the more need of just such a helper. If
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Prepared to Die. 341
• •
death did indeed take us '' into the presence of God," diis would be an aulded
benefit ; but God is with you as a loving friend and &thef equally the mo-
ment before death and the moment after ; amd whatever change that event
has brought to you, it has brought no change to Him. He knows you,
loves you, is ready to help you, and is desirous that 3rou should appreciate
and welcome his help, equally before and after the liftle circumstance called
death. I counsel you — trust thoroughly in Him, and die without a thought
of fearing Him, whenever and however He appoints you to diew .
If a person should ask you — Are you " prepared " to take off your
clothes to-night? — you would be puzzled to know what he meant. If it
-appeared that he meant that you would be more in the presence of God,
and more in danger of harm from Him, after imdressing yourself, you would
think the inquirer foolish or superstitious, and pay no regard to hinu But
when the parsoH asks if you are " prepared ** to lay aside your bodily cloth-
ing at the end of mortality's day, you think it, perhaps, an appropriate, a
sensible, an important question. The force of habit, the errors of educa-
tion, make it really appear so. But in fact, if asked with reference to the
relation between God and you, this question is as foolish as the other.
Are you "prepared " to meet your fother at the break£dist-table to-morrow
morning ? Are you " prepared " to meet him on returning home after a
visit ? Are you " prepared " to have him call upon you unexpectedly any-
where ? What childish — no, I beg the child's pardon — rather, what un-
reasonable and ill-founded questions ! The child welcomes the father, and
rejoices in his presence at aQ times. Will it be said that that depends upon
whether the child be good or not ? I reply that, even in the latter case, it
is only the child's ignorance that would lead it to /ear the Other's visit
What more appropriate time for the presence of the guide, the guardian,
the best friend, the Father, than when the ward, the pupil, the child is doing
or purposing wrong ! If the latter feels ashamed or admonished on recog-
nizing the presence of the former, are not diose precisely the emotions
needful and salutary for him ? The true iiaither will always do him good
aod never harm. The heavenly Father will do him gocyl and never harm
all the days of his imraortal*life. Let the dismissal of the body be welcome
whenever He pleases to ordain it To doubt of His wise and good provis-
ion for us in the future^ is to lack faith. Reader, be not faithless, but
believing.
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GODWARD. .
T^HOU Soul that overlightest mine !
That with Thy solar blaze divine
Quencbest the firefly's timid shine 1
Shall Thf vast lustre be my night?
A spark bums here, — and light is light;
I am of Thee, O Infinite I
For Thou and I are next of kin ;
The pulses that are strong within,
From the deep Infinite heart begin.
Thou art my All, — but what am I ?
A flickering hope, a passionate sigh
Exhaled upon the kindred sky.
Ah, not in vain the cry shall be!
Jji these poor shoots of flame I see
A burning effluence from Thee ;
And tending towards Thee ever higher,
Their hearts shall evermore aspire
To mix with Thee, Empyreal Fire I f. e. a.
LETTER FROM JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.
To THS Editor of the Radical :
In your February number, Mr. Johnion commences hit reply to my letter
on " Authority," by saying that my criticism " seems to betray a very care-
less, or at best superficial reading, not only of his statements, but of the
general subject" This notion, that I failed to comprehend him, and to
comprehend certain laws of the human mind, as only ** an unreflecting per-
son," '* incapable of perceiving principle at all," could do — constitutes a
considerable part of the staple of his reply.
Now, the usual course of controversy would require that I should retort
all these charges — declare that Mr. Johnson has misunderstood and mis-
represented ms — refer to what I said, and to what he said, and complain
with a full orchestra that he has not done me justice, and that it is he, not
I, who is "careless," ** confused," and ** superfidaL" The method of po-
lemic discussion, in fact, reminds me of a dialogue between a gentleman of
my acquaintance and his fiiither, who, looking out of his window one morn-
ing, 9^fr him kicking a fnvorite dog.
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Letter from James Freeman Clarke. 343
Father {indignantly.^ " Why did you kick that dog ? "
Son {reproachfully,) " Because he bit me."
Father, " He did not bite you."
Son. «* Then I did not kick him."
So, in controversy, one party snaps at the other; the other kicks
back ; the first then asks why the other kicked him ; the second replies,
'* Because you bit me ; " the first then explains that he did not intend to
bite, the other explains that he did not mean to kick ; and so the matter
ends.
I think it will save time, therefore, and be more satisfactory, if we omit
all these personalities. Let your readers take for granted that I have ac-
cused Mr. Johnson sufficiently of being superficial and careless, of misun-
derstanding and misrepresenting my position, and let us go, at once, to the
main question between us.
That question is, " Can there be Authority without Infallibility, and if so,
what is its extent and value ?" That, at least, is the point I suggested ;
and I think the occasion justified me in so doing. For Mr. Johnson's Dis-
course on ''Bond and Free " commenced thus : " The great religious ques-
tion of the age is that between Outward Authority and Irnyard Freedom.
May we trust the firee exercise of our natural faculties to give us the knowl-
edge of Duty and of God, or does fi-eedom come to nothing but delusion,
and must we have supernatural teachers ; creeds sent down from above,
ready made, for our acceptance, not our investigation ; sects, churches and
books clothed with an authority that makes our liberty needless as well as
wrong ? " " These are opposite principles which I indicate. They exclude
each other. If one is true, the other is false. If our souls may be trusted
in the search for truth, then we do not need, and cannot have, authoritative
teachers, creeds, churches, books," &c. &c.
I criticised this statement by saying that Outward Authority is not ne-
cessarily opposed to Inward Freedom, — that we may trust the free exercise
of our natural faculties, and yet be helped by supernatural teachers ; that
sects, churches and books may have an authority which does not make lib-
erty needless or wrong. Mr. Johnson confounded Authority and In£dli-
bility. I distinguished them. I showed that there was a kind of Author-
ity which was not Infallibility, which helped human progress instead of
hindering it ; and that, therefore, in attacking all Authority and confounding
it with Infallibility, Mr. Johnson had shown a want of discrimination which
blunted the edge of his argument
To all which Mr. Johnson has substantially replied, that when he at«
tacked Authority he meant Infallibility ; that the majority of Christiana be-
lieve the Bible infiUlible, and so that illusion needs to be attacked and
dispelled ; and that it is daubing the wall with untempered mortar to palli-
ate this radical hostility between Freedom and Infiillibillty ; that if I seek
peace in this way, I get a peace which is no peace*
I answer, I do not seek any such superficial peace. But in order to
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344 Th^ Radical.
accomplish anything by argument, wt must state distinctiy what we propose
to prove. If we mean to oppose Infallible Authority, wc should say so,
and not mix up, in one sentence, an attack on what is defensible and what
is not
All earnest, God-seeking men feel their need of authority ; feel that Aey
are inwardly helped by trust, reposed in higher intellects than their owa.
TThey feel that they have been lifted to a higher raqge of conviction and in-
#i|^t by the great prophetic voices of mankind. Their faith in these loftj
teachers has led to sight, and they bless God for making them capable t£
recognizing the au^ority of Wisdom, Nobleness, Goodness. And amon^
these, no words have had such influence as those which, £illing from the
lips of the Syrian peasant, reported fragmentarily in the four Gospels,
copied, translated and sent down through fifty successive generations, art
to-day the sweetness and strength of their life. Mr. Johnaon comes and
assures them they have no right to ascribe any such authority to their
teacher. He wastes his words, because he is attackix^^ not the weak out-
work of the fallible letter, but the impregnable fortress of the Hving coavic*
lion. As long as it is true that man does not live by bread alone, but by
every word which proceeds out of the mouth of God, so long men will pay
little heed to an argument, however logical it may be, which proposes, or
seems to propose, to take from them the fountain from which this water c^
lile flows. Tell the Old Guard not to follow Napoleon ; prove to Uie army
of the Mississippi that Sherman is not infallible, and therefore ought not te
be considered an authority ; perhaps they will listen to you. But Cbristenr
4om will never listen to any argument, however subtle, which denies the
authority of its Captain and Head to be leader of the great host which is
marching through time to eternity.
The Unitarians have, for fifty years, been opposing the infallibility of the
letter, that is, opposing the verbal inspiration of the Bible. This, as we
are now told by Mr. Johnson, is still his object ; only he thinks they oi^hl
to go further, and deny the infallibility of Jesus himself! You have n(tf
carried the outworks ; therefore, says he, attack the citadel But if yoa
■cannot convince Christians that the printed letter of the word must be fill*
Hble> how can you convince them that the word in the mind of Jesus waa
so? If they will not see a contradiction between Matthew and Mark,
which is before their eyes, how will they be persuaded of that of which no
mortal can ever see or know anything — the mystery of the exporieace
hidden in the soul of Jesus ?
The real evil which Mr. Johnson, with all the rest of us, wishes to op-
pose, is the idolatry of the letter — the Infallibility attributed to the Creed
the Sect, the Priest, the letter of the Bible. I maintain that you can only
do this by showing that in doing it you are not opposing the legitimate au-r
•thority which belongs to any of these.
What men need, and have a right to have, is intelligent trust in a Leader.
What they ought to refuse, as inconsistent with freedom, is a blind acqiu*
escence in arbitrary dictation. Iieave them the fint, aad they can be made
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Letter from James Freeman Clarke. 345
to relinquish iht other. Attack both, and they rdinquish neither. Thi^
has been the constant fiadlure of Reformers, and is reproduced, in an exag-
gerated form, in the present Radical movement, of which Mr. Johnson's
sermon is an example, it always produces reaction, and its end is £adlure.
Perhaps this may be illustrated by an example. Mr. Richardson, cor-
respondent of the Tribune, gives an interesting account of his escape from
Salisbury Prison, and the way in which the Union prisoners, so escaping
were helped by the colored people and the Union people of North Carolina.
One of these last guided them over the mountains, as he had before guided
several thousand Unionists. Of all these thousands, only Aree or four
had been captured by guerrillas, so well he knew every path, and so adroit,
cautious and sagacious was this guide. Now if Mr. Johnson had said to
these escaping prisoners, ^ Do not trust him ; he cannot be your guide, or
be any authority to jrou, because he is not infallible," what would they hava
replied? ♦* Whether in£&lllble or not," they would have said, **wc will
trust him, for ke knows how te lead us. We take him for our guide, and .
shall trust our liberty and life entirely to his loyalty and knowledge."
Mr. Johnson ridicules the suggestion that such a kind of authority as this
would ever satisfy the Orthodox communi^. He insists that there shall be
no medium between No Authority and Infallible Authority. But those of
us, on the contrary, who believe that Orthodoxy also has a real basis in
human experience and the. nature of man, have no doubt that this Authority
of Knowledge will replace at last the Authority of an Infallible Letter.
What more can we ask than a Guide whom we shall trust in spiritual
things as this man was trusted in temporal ? We have exactly the same
reason for believing that Jesus can guide us out of sin into holiness, out of
spiritual slavery into spiritual freedom, (hat those escaping prisoners had
to trust their leader. He had guided several thousands before them s^ely
over the mountains of North Carolina to the loyal homes of East Tennessee.
And so has Jesus guided hundreds of thousands out of struggle, bondage,
doubt, despair, into peace and advancing life. We have the evidence in
the Biographies, Histories, Experiences of eighteen centuries.
What men want in a guide is not Infallibility, but Knowledge. If Jesus
loiows the way to the Universal Father, and we have confidence that he
knows it, that is enough. I admit that it would not be considered enough
now, for at present the whole Evangelical Church thinks that it needs In-
fdlibility. But we can conclusively show that this 'is impossible ; that even
if the writers of the New Testament were infsdlible in their inspiration, they
could not be in their utterance, since language is only an approximation to
the exact expression -of thought Moreover, even if the first expression
was perfect, everything is adulterated by transmission. We do not drink
at the fountain, we drink at the brook. And, as Goethe says,
** Ever the further the brook has run,
TYm more of a foreign taste it has won.***
^ " ^ wird ivuner nehr firemden Sc^mack gewinnen
Es mag nur immer weiter rumen.*'
4
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34^ The Radical.
If you wish, then, to abolish nulicallj the superstition which worships as
Outward Infallibility, you can only do it by giving men something better
in its place. ^ The human soul/' say the Buddhists, '' is like a leech — It
will not let go its hold by the tail, till it has fastened elsewhere by the
head." A false Authority, cannot be conquered by opposing all authority,
but by substituting a better. A Radical ought to go to the root of the
matter — and you never reach the root of human errors by a merely nega-
tive treatment You must find out the truth in the error, in order to cob-
vince the errorist When you attack his extreme with the oppottte ex-
treme, you may silence him, but you do not convince him.
The main point, therefore, to which I venture, still, to call Mr. Johnson's
attention is here. He assaults Authority as InMibility, and Infallibility
as Authority — practically treating them as the same thing. I have sug-
gested that they are not the same thing — but that we can receive the Gos-
pels and Christ as Authority, without ascribing to them Infallibility. He
says in reply, " I may settle with the Evangelical World if this is Us £aith in
Christ's authority." But I supposed I was talking with Mr. Johnson, and
not with the Evangelic World. I tell him that he can disprove Infidlibility,
if he will not attack Authority at the same time. He says he was consid-
ering " Authority and Freedom as opposite principles." I knew he was,
and I tried to show him that he ought to distinguish, and not confound all
sorts of authority together. He says his question was, as he distinctly
de^ed it, " Are we so made that we must have supernatural or infallible
teachers, or are we so made tliat we cannot have them ? " Yes. This is a
distinct alternative. But when he, shiftily, changes the issue, and says, ^ If
our souls may be trusted in the search for truths, then we do not need and
cannot have authoritative teachers, creeds, churches, books." I deny the
alternative. We can do both. It is possible *'for an unreflecting person "
not to see the distinction — but Mr. Johnson is not an unreflecting person,
but quite the contrary — and so, I hope, that by this time, he has become
aware of what I mean.
I therefore continue to deny the thesis enunciated in the first sentence of
his discourse, that '* the great religious question of the age is that between
Outward Authority and Inward Freedom." These are not alternatives.
We can accept Outward Authority, and also have with it Inward Freedom.
We might as well say the question in this country is between the Outward
authority of the Constitution, on the one hand, and civil and political free-
dom on the other. We might say as well that we could not ascribe to the
Constitution any authority unless we also considered it infallible.
There are several other points referred to by Mr. Johnson, to which I do
not care to answer. He thinks he has discovered some inconsistency be-
tween my " Letter," and my " Convention Sermon." Very likely. Man is an
inconsistent animal. It seems I used some Scripture phrases in that dis-
course, and some warm expressions, which he cannot justify. That, also,
is very, possible. He does not see how I can speak of Christ or any one
else *' introducing a moral conviction into the human soul." I however have
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Letter from James Freeman Clarke. 347
supposed that there is such a thing as moral influence — and that this
means the power by which one man's convictionyf^erte/i* in to another's mind.
I think Dr. Channing has introduced into many minds the idea of the dig-
nity and worth of man. I think Mr. Garrison iias introduced into the
nation the idea of the sinfulness of slavery. So I think that Jesus intro-
duced into human religion, the idea of the Fatherhood of God, and the
Quotherhood of Man. Not that Homer, the Old Testament, and other
teachers had no^used the words, and uttered the thoughts before — but
Christ '* introduced" it, as a living conviction, never after to finish ; a ger-
minal idea, to grow up, and modify all religion, till it shall bring at last all
others into one, and make a universal faith on earth. Mr. Johnson there-
fore does nothing by quoting Geanthes and Aratus, Seneca and Cicero. To
see and express a truth is one thing — to introduce it as a living power into
the hearts and lives of men, quite another.
I asked Mr. Johnson this question ; where in any of the religions and
Scriptures of the world outside of Christianity he finds '* the Revelation of
God as a Universal Father, and its Corollary the Brotherhood of Man."
He replies by telling me of many places where the word " Father "is ap-
plied to God. He refers me to Homer and Hesiod, and " almost every
Greek and Roman poet." And among a multitude of others, to Cicero,
Philo, the Son of Sirach, Aurelius Antoninus, and Confucius. I cannot^
of course, take your space to follow him through all these references. For-
tunately, however, it is not necessary. By trying to prove too much, he
provides me with the answer I need. For he who finds the Christian idea
of ^ God the father and God the brother," in Cicero, Confucius, '* almost
all the Greek and Roman poets," and the Buddhists — shows that he means
something by it very different from what is usually understood. The state-
ment is its own sufficient refutation.
But Mr. Johnson wants no Outward Authority — he only wants the soul
itself. " Everything is in the soul," he cries " go to that" Perhaps so —
but will he explain to us then, why the soul should have shown itself so
persistently onesided in its past history ? Why has Brahminism, for 3,000
years, while ascending the highest spiritual elevation in its flight to God,
resolutely trampled on the rights of men ? The greatest truths in regard to
God, and the most cruel lies as regards men drop sweetly firom its lips.
And why has Buddhism gone into exactly the opposite extreme — and as
Brahminism united Theism and inhumanity, united a broad humanity with
Atheism ? These are questions for Comparative Theology, and are not so
easily settled as Mr. Johnson seems to suppose. They are not answered
l^ saying that everything is in the human soul.
James Freeman Clarke.
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MAN AND INSTITUTIONS
npHE development of Institutions is in the inverse order to Che deittl-
^ opment of Life. Life is first Subjective, then Administrative, thea
Magisterial. Institutions are first Magisterial, then Administrative, fh#A
Subjective, so that fai Mdses or Legalism, man is apparently made for tiM
Sabbath ; in Moralisin, or the Prophets, the Sabbath and man are fedpio-
cal agents, as ministry and ministers; and in Christianity or Christ,
institutions are purely ministerial, and Man or Life magisterial : ^ die 8ab->
bath " being " made for man, and not man for the Sabbath."
" The law killeth," the Prophets administer on the estate ; and « Christ,"
the righteous judge, ♦*giveth life," distri^tes thi priceless riches /# all th^
heirs.
First, the shoot gives no token of the grain ; ia apparently the only stib-
stance ; then the blade folly developed plainly foretells or prophesies d»e
coming com ; at last ^ the corn fully ripe In the ear " drops or throws dowo
the dead husk, and exhibits the matchless grace and glory of the SapresM
Objective.
In the infantile mind^ God — the infinitely perfect*— is quite latent in
tiie soul ; and great, powerful, commanding, in institutions. Hence the
legal order is a necessity to that stage of experience, so remote in manly
culture.
In ^t youthful mindy •* the Lord God " — the parti^ly realized presence
of the Lord within, in the monitions of reason and conscience, and a sense
of God without as still arbitrary there, become reciprocally active ; fostering
the growth of self-hood, sense of moral responsibility, and begetting all the
strife, turmoil, and bubbling commotion that, in every departinent of creatioB
are incident to the secondary degree — that of evolution, separation, or
sinalysis.
In the manly mind^ the Lord, or infinite perfection embodied — " Immaa-
uel — God with us" — inaugurates, in the soul exclusively ^ a deathless
objectivity ; making it the native home of all that is good, true, and beauti-
ful, and establishing there the shrine of every devout, manly worshipper of
the ever-living God.
This issues in allaving the painfiil unrest of the preceding degree ; estab-
Hshes God's eternal Sabbath in the soul ripened to iU great behests, whick
thenceforth " ceaseth from its labor and enters into resf
Such is a brief but logical statement of the great leading verities of life ;
fit>m which may readily be deduced the dearest principle of all the min%*
tia of its experience, a solution of its subtlest mysteries,' and the truths
that eternally establish both its birthright and its destiny, and banish for-
ever all forms of skepticism and doubt. w. H. K.
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MOVEMENTS.
TtiERE fe ihuch itrore bloving m out World thah itidvement If
this is an insupportablfe paradox, we ask pardon ot the teadeh
But we are anxious to say With emphasis that, in our opinion.
Very few of the many ' movements,' 6f which there are daily reports,
hx7t any real significaiice ot relation to the prbgreds of our time ;
that most of thettl have only the virtue and good-help that may
be ek^d out of Tiindrances. Nothirtg more. It i$ a cfonvictibh 6t
this 6ort Which leads us td fegatd With coriiparativ^iy Wtle interest
most of the church movements. And this remark applies to the * lib-
eral church,' so cafled, as well as to others ; for its movement in
the main is Without consistency or earnestness of purpose. If the
free soteieties -^ which one can altno3t count on the fingers of one
hand -^ may be classed under the head of churches, they are nd-
table exceptions to the remark ; and are generally tolerated iti the
brotherhood rather than welcomed. The shadow of orthodox tradi-
tions and influences rests upon the 'liberal * parishes, and the people
cannot, as yet, clearly see their way. th their assemblages there are
no presences more real than the demons of Distrust, Fear, Uncer-
tainty. These preside, and rule ' out of order ' whatever proposal in-
dividuals may make, for a thorough discussion of important topicsi.
There is liberty to go so far, but no farther. There » no unity of
belief^ no conviction ; hence^ no faith, no cocHiage^ no generous tnr
thusiasin. There is no Mdvdnent, though there may b^ a great ded
of matfing. " Mr. — ^ gave us two grand sermons )reffterday. Btit
our people were a little suspicious that if they * called ' him, he might
6pen disturbing topics. For myself, I should like that But it would
split the church. There seems to be our difficulty. It would be life
for individucds^ but death for the church,^^ This mournful confession,
(made in our hearing not long since by one of the ' Committee-men,'
in a prominent ' liberal church,') fairly represents the attitude of that
church toward the leading questions of the time. The CmmcH
grievet at their presence, and has not the coutage to grapple wiA
tiiem. Or, if it grappk^ it is the authority of the church choking them
Kxiio peace. Of this sort of * liberal ' movement, one has constantly to
isk, what does liberal mean ? Liberal towards what ? Liberal how t
where) whenf Liberal towards ideas? Generous, hospitable in
the reception and treatment of these ? That can not be claimed.
The liberal church may be said to have a wider range than the
'evangelical,' but it keeps within comparatiyely narrow limits^ never**
tlielesft. Where find a liberal preacher, if he has a fearless faitk
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350 The Radical.
in the results of reason, and earnestness in the application of princi-
ples to the civilization of the age, who has not to conduct his heart's
work under protest of the church ? Every such man, if he seek the
interests of the church, might well interpret his difficulty thus : " O
church, I dare not whisper to thee of the Soul, for I know that thou
livest or dost think thou livest, by bread alone." It seems to have got
into the heads of the Christian propagandists that Religion is nur-
tured by the Church ; whether truths, or principles, or knowledge ob-
tain or not The institution is permitted to usurp the place of the
idea, and banish it
It is therefore a pleasure to be able to report of other movements
in which the definite and one purpose controls of gaining knowledge.
We begin with some account of ' the Philosophical Society of St
Louis, which Mr. Sanborn has fuftiished for the Commonwealth,
Mr. Sanborn writes :
St Louis is a city nearly as large as Boston, but with a population hx
more mixed. Originally a French settlement, it has since received in large
numbers almost every people of the civilized world, and not a few emigrants
from Arkansas, Texas and New Mexico. The Yankee from New England,
the New York and the Pennsylvania Dutchman, the Maryland Catholic,
the Virginia abstractionist, the South Carolina fire-eater, have all here met
and mingled with English, Irish, French, German, Italian, Norwegian,
Hungarian emigrants, of every grade and every variety of fortune. There
are Smiths from New Hampshire, Ellots from Massachusetts, Bentons and
Blairs from Kentucky, among the leading names, along with Prussian
counts, Swiss biedermen, Scotch ministers and French savans. Such a
mingling of races and diversities of culture is favorable to intellectual life,
and furnishes the sharp contrasts and the cosmopolitan nonchalance which
stimulate and nourish freedom of thought And by just such a commixture
of persons was the Philosophical Society founded.
The business of these students is not to dissect turtles, or impale butter-
flies, or collect fossils, although these are useful emplo}rments, and highly
esteemed in America. They devote themselves not tQ physical but to met-
aphysical science, and they have, for the present, taken up Hegel Unlike
the swift critics of the North American Review and the Monthly Religious
' Magazine^ whose intuitions enable them to dispense with the tedious pro>
cess of reading and understanding an author, these scholars of St Louis
have not outgrown Hegel, nor found his secret an " open one." They
attach more importance to the great German school of metaphysics which
began with Kant and was continued through the lifetime of Fichte, Jacobi,
Hegel, Schelling and Schopenhauer, than to treat it with indifference, con-
tempt, or aversion. To them it represents a secular movement of the hu-
man mind, evolving much that is perishable, more that was familiar in for-
mer times, and something which is both new and destined to continue. Of
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Movements. 35!
this movement they regard Hegel as the most proibimd interpreter, and
they seek to bring his interpretation to the knowledge of Americans.
A somewhat similar design was that of Mr. Sterling for English readers^
and inspired, perhaps, by a kindred feeling. But the Hegelians of St.
Louis propose to translate and publish those works of their master which
have either never been translated, or very imperfectly, and to make their
own commentary subordinate to the text of HegeL For this purpose a
translation of his logic has been made, with an introduction by Mr. W. T.
Harris, a former contributor to The Commonwealth^ and is to be published
in the present year. Mr. Harris is also engaged on a translation of the
History of Philosophy, Prof. Snyder and Dr. Hall are translating the
Philosophy of Nature ; and another student is at work on ^^t^% jEstketik,
The publication of these books is to follow, we understand, the issae of
the Logic with Mr. Harris's Introduction^ but how soon we are not informed.
Our correspondent himself, Mr. Kroeger, is a student of Fichte, sevlsral of
whose books he has translated, while other members, Mr. Brockmeyer, Mn
Waiters, Mr. Hill, etc., are at work, each in his speciality, and contributing
to the discussions of the society.
Now, we do not wish Mr. Sears, Mr. James, or that sleeping volcano of
metaphysical wrath. Prof. Bowen, to set us down as disciples of Heg^l,
Pantheists or Potheists, for we hereby protest that we know no more of the
doctrine of Hegel than these three gentlemen do. But we admire that in-
tellectual freedom that is not daunted by any outcry, nor by the difficulties
of an abstruse subject, nor by the loneliness of its own speculations. It
was said by an acute critic that the Germans had acquired by their philos-
ophy " a spirit of scientific liberty unknown to other nations; " and it is
that which he would fain see prevailing in America. Hitherto, our litera-
ture and our philosophy have been servile, petty and imitative. Our ene-
.mies complain that we have the stupidity of the Englishman without his
culture, the virulence of the Scot without his acumen, and the frivolity of
the Frenchman without his wit and candor. It is time that we disproved
these censures ; and among the encouraging signs of the time we have
heard of few that were more hopeful than the learned zeal of the Philosophi-
cal Society of St Louis.
This Society recently invited A. Bronson Alcott to St Louis, and
the following account of his visit there has been furnished to the
Commonwealth by one of its members, Mr. Kroeger :
Editor Commonwealth ; — The recent visit of Mr. Alcott to our city
was not only a deeply interesting, but a hopeful and significant event He
came here from his quiet home in Concord at the earnest solicitation of our
Philosophical society, and left yesterday, after a prolonged stay of over
three weeks. These three weeks have been partly spent in a mutual ex-
change of thought and views, and a general " comparing of notes." The
results of this exchange it were most proper for Mr. Alcott himself to state ; *
whilst I confine myself to a representation of his own exertions and labors
here, manifested in the form of " conversational lectures."
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35^ The RadicdL
Host Of j^nif tf airum it^tn ithi aWar^ I ^up^oi^, 6( thi^ ftim'ed fofW
in which Mr. Akott take» plea^ur^ to acpres^ the reialtn 6f hf* de«|»
researches and lifb-long e^iperience. Meeting in a hom^drde, in |>arIon,
with a convenient number of inteHecttial and earnest thinkers, be pteitti
quietly to unfold his choseA theme, and gradually (o draw into a more of les^
lively discussion all persons present, taking care not to iti the chief subject
tff discussion be lost sight of, and aHways anxious fo stat^ his views hi ihe
manner best suited to 6ach individual present It is a Socratic way of teacfa-
kkgi takiiig the hearet at bis own statement or objection, and thereby, ni
fiie most gentte way, teadiug him to the truth. It is not in the form of a let'
luHe,'— this or that fs so,-— but rather suggestive oonversatfon,^i8 not this ot
that so t Heuce it gives more siatiafi&ctlon, and to e^ch 6ne who johis hi
Ihe conversation) More food for reflection.
The venerable appearance of Mr. Akott, his geutk tone of voice, ahd a
high degree of culture, particularly determine him for this peculiar office asr
a teacher of meit, which tests, perhaps more than any other public expres-
^on, real merit and knowledge, since it requires a comf^te command oi
all the resources of science and learning. Every question must be Aiet on
Ihe spot, the most dtfficuH subjects treated without preparation. Each
week we had some three or four of these evening gatherings, at which we
Ssfiened to Mr. Alcott's development of the different subjects made thtf
special themes for those evenings^ as, for instance, Religion, Art, Temper*
iment. Health, The Family, &c.
That much good has been accomplished by these evening gatherings la
very dear. A considerable number of our citizens have been enabled to
hear views and ideas which cannot be fruitless, and which they will transmit
to others, and thus discuss still more fuUy in their own circles of acqtudnt*
auce. It is at all times impressive to see a ^hole, ckar-minded man, who,
freed from the thraldom of authority-worship, has brought harmony into
himself^ and to listen to utterances bearing the mark of earnest conviction.
The views of Mr. Akott we have neither space or ability to represent now.
As far as he had opportunity to develop them here, they are living in the
hearts of his hearers, and will there Kear their fruit.
Particular attention was concentrated in his last conversation, whkh had
for its object the ^ Eminent Men of the East.'' Mr. Alcotf s charact^s-
tics of Emerson, Thoreau, and Margaret Fuller were listened to With the
most earnest interest in the subject, and admiration of the skill displayed
in its treatment
Next fail or winter we hope to have Mr. Akott again in our midst, and
perhaps, also, some of hts New England fellow-workers, — Mr. Emerson
ind Mr. Wendell Phillips. The new era dawning upon our republic re*
quires the co-operation of all earnest thinkers, and to secure this co-opera-
tion, mutual acquaintance and exchange of thoughts are Indispensabk.
A. S. t.
St. Louis, March 7, 1866.
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Mr. Alcott Made a call at Cincinnati on his r^tarh home, and met
k number of the people who compos ^e Art ReHgioiis Sdciefy of thai
City, from whom we have interesting accounts. This society has
lately availed itself of the* serviced of Samuel Johnson, he occupying
its desk for three successive Sundays, ^r. Wasson is there now for
a few weeks. He is to be followed by Robert Collyer and John
Weiss. A free platform — an earnest purpose — a living faith in the
power of truth to mould the life of men — such movements have a
teal and vital relation to all times. They are fell of good omen.
Of like significance is the present movement in Boston, conducted
by Mr. Emerson. It is a course of ^ix lectntes which h^ is reading
on "The Philosophy o^ the People." These lectures began on
Saturday, April 14, at 12 o'clock, M., at Chickering's Rooms. ' Thej^
^11 be given on successive Saturdays, at the same horn*. It was fine
to see a large company of ladies, business men and professional
men, Cambridge Professors and students, crowding the hall^ leaving
cares and troubles behind^ to give the hour to thought And we
called to mind those remarkable paragraphs which close one of Thed*
dore Parker's sermons on " The Revival of Religion which we need.''
We know that we shall confer a favor upon our readers if we repro-
duce them here :
" I say, we want a Revival of Religion, such as tlie world has not seen,
yet often longed for. It was the dream even of the Hebrew prophets, look-
ing for the time when the nations should learn war no more, when the
sword should be turned into the ploughshare, the spear to the pruning-hook,
when all men should be taught of God, when '< Holiness unto the Lord '^
should be on the bells even of the horses. We want a Piety so deep that
men shall understand God made man from a perfect motive, of perfect mater-
ial, for a perfect purpose, and endowed with faculties which are perfect
means to that end ; so deep, that we shall trust the natural law He writes
on the body and in the souL We want a Morality so wide and firm that
men shall make the Constitution of the Universe the Common Law of all
mankind ; every day God's day, —life-time not to be let out to us at the
'sevenths or the seventieths, the larger fraction for wickedness, the lesser
for piety and heaven, but the whole of it His, and the whole of it ours also,
because we use it all as He meant it, for our good. Then the dwelling-
house, the market-house, the court-house, the senate-house, the shop, the
ship, the field, the forest, the mine, shall be a temple where the psalm and
prayer of Religion goes up from daily, normal, blessed work.
This Revival will not come all at once, as the lightning shineth
from the east to the west, but as the morning comes, litde by little, so will
it be welcomed too. As that material day-spring from on high conves grate-
ful to grass and trees, to men and women, so will this Revival come upon
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354 The Radical.
our hearts, as natural consequence of such prayer and manly toil — cor
toilsome prayer, our prayerful toil It will come as the agriculture of New
England came — one little field made ready this year, another next — the
Indian Com growing triumphant amid the black stumps of the oaken forest
which the axe had hewn down and the fire had swept away, the Savage
looking grimly on, no longer meditating war, but yet wondering at the
apples which litter the ground with the ruddy loveliness of unwonted, un-
expected health. It is coming ahready : — the peace-men, the temperance-
men, anti-slavery men, educational men, the men of science, poetic moi, the
reform-men, men of commerce, manufactures, agriculture — every good
man, every good woman — all these are hel^ to it, each digging up and
planting his tittle plot of ground. Good ministers of all denominations —
Catholic, Protestant, Trinitarian, Unitarian, Methodist, Baptist, Quaker,
Universalist, Spiritualist, — there are thousands of them, — are toiling after
that great end, even though they know it not Many have done something,
some much, — one man more than any. His name is not honored in the
Churches — of course not I Was Jesus in the Temple ? They cast him
out even fh)m the synagogue. There is a scholarly man in New England,
gifted with such genius for literature as no other American has ever shown.
He has large power of intuitive perception of the Beautiful, the True, the
Just, the Good, the Holy; cultivated singuUurly well, having the poetic
power of pictured speech, not less than the inward eye to see. His life is
heroic as a soldier's ; he never runs, nor hides, nor stoops, nor stands aside
to avoid the shot which hits tall marks : yet is no woman gentler than this
unflinching man. He was cradled in the church — it is good for a cradle,
not a college, shop, or house. He was bred in the ministry, and sat at
famous feet The little town of Concord is the centre of his sphere ; its
circumference, — that great circle lies far ofi^ hid underneath the foreign
horizon of future centuries.
I honor the Chaunceys, the Mayhews, the Freemans, the Buckminsters,
the Channings, who taught great truths, and also lived full of nobleness ; I
thank God for their words, which come directly, or echoed to your heart
and mine. They have gone to their reward. But no living man has done
so much as Emerson to waken this Religion in the great Saxon he^ of
Americans and Britons. It is not doctrine he teaches — his own creed is
not well defined ; it is the inspiration of manliness that he imparts. He .
has never beguiled a man or unsuspecting maid to join a church, to under-
write another^s creed, or comply with an alien ritual. But his words and
his life charm earnest men with such natural religion as makes them, of
their own accord, to trust the Great Soul of all, and refine themselves into
noble, normal, individual life. In six hours of so many recent *weeks, I
think he has done more to promote the revival of Piety and Morality in
Boston, than all the noisy rant of Calvinistic preaching, Calvinistic singing,
and Calvinistic prayer, in the last six months.
What an opportunity there is for you and me to work in this true Revi-
val ! No nation offers a field so fair. We can speak and listen, we can
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print and read, with none to molest or make us afraid. More than all that,
we can live as high as Ve please. There is no government, no church to
lay its iron hands on our head and say — '^ Stop there ! " Misguiding min«
isters may believe in the damnation of babies newly bom, may pray curses
on us all ; they cannot light a faggot to bum a man ; thefr spirit is wiUingi
but their flesh is weak ! It is a grand age and nation to live in and work
for."
Under the general theme of ** Philosophy for the People," Mr. Em-
erson treats of "Seven Metres of Intellect;" "Instinct, Perception,
Talent;" "Genius, Imagination, Taste;" "Laws of the Mind;"
" Conduct of the Intellect," and " Relation of Intellect to Morals."
Since writing the above, we have found copied into the Christian
Register y the following account of a " movement " among the Unitarians.
The Unitarian Religious Revival at East Boston. — About
four months since, at a prayer and conference meeting in the vestry of the
Rev. W. H. Cudworth's church, it was agreed that those present should,
from that date every day, at noon, ask God for the gift of the Holy Spirit,
and that He would revive the church. It was designed as a special, united
prayer for a special blessing ; and now behold the answer. For a week
every afternoon between half-past four and half-past five, revival meetings
have been held in the vestry, all well attended, and the good work is still in
progress. The meeting yesterday was very interesting. Among those
present we'noticed Orthodox, Methodists, New Church people, and others
of different denominations, who took a lively interest in the glorious cause.
The prayer meeting on Friday evening was the largest ever assembled in
the church, and was carried on with great spirit, to the profit of all who
took part in its proceedings.
The revival meetings will continue until anniversary week ; and all who
have an interest in that higher life which raises mankind above the allure-
metits of time and sense, and brings them into closer communion with the
Redeemer, are invited to attend and take part
It may be well to state for the information of those who regard Uni-
tarians as little better than Pagans, that during the past fifteen years, the
Unitarians of East Boston have had regular prayer and conference meet-
ings every Friday evening ; also special meetings for prayer, and meetings
from house to house, and the Lord has prospered them in a wonderful de-
gree. " Come and see." — Traveller,
For what pufpose is the attention of that denomination called to
auch proceedings as these? Is it a quiet suggestion that such
" special " revival efforts should become a part of the new Unitarian
" denominational activity,*? of which we have lately heard so much ?
If that is the idea, we shall soon expect to see some one of the dis-
tinguished revival preachers now laboring in the same direction, vet
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35^ The Radical.
Ae interests of Ae evangelical denomination^ occupying Unitariaa
pulpits. Plutarch relates that «rhexi Agesilatis wis told, ' the Lacedae^
monians were turning Medes/ he nsplied^ * No ; the Medes are tumi
ing Lacedaemonians.' Evidently th6 "Orthodox, Methodists, NeW
Church people, and others of different denominations " have no idea
of turning Unitariini. Shall we then conclude that the reverse is
the case ?
BOOK NOTICES.
Essays on the SupERNATtJRAL Origin of Christianity, with speual
REPERBNCE to THE THEORIES OF ReNAN, STRAUSS, AND THE TfTBIN^
GEN School. By Rev. George P. Fisher, M. A., Professor of
Church History in Yale College. New York : Charles Scribner & Co-|
124 Grand Street. 1866.
This work is admirably ads^ted to the end for which it was written ; but
it is a matter of deep regret that it was not written for a higher object.
From our hearsay of the book, we had indulged the hope that here, at lengthi
was manifested a sincere intention of coming to the help of those who have
been unable to accept the anti-naturalism of the popular Christianity. Of
that class are we ; and taking up the book we were disposed once more to
assume the question to be an open one, and see what considerations we had
overlooked We have laid it down with a keen sense of disappointment^
not only that it does not meet our case, but that it was not seriously in-
tended to do so, that it was written for the' edification of those who are
already on the author's side, or at best, for the admonition of those who are
restiess in their bonds, and are on the lookout for the north star and a land
of freedom. Professor Fisher is aware that rationalism does not have its
root in any particular theory of Gospel history. If, then, he had btea
undertaking in earnest to meet it, he would have grappled with the essen-
tial, and not with the accidentaL It is not that we object to bringing
Strauss, Renan, and Baur to the bar of critical judgment Every scholar
must welcome such endeavors to elicit historical truth, and expose ua-
founded assumptions. But the question of historical criticism is only a side
issue, in which Professor Fisher may triumph over Baur and the rest, with-
out touching the grand principle in dispute. He does not thus even demon-
strate the reliability of the New Testament records. Suppose that none of
the ration^ist theories are correct, it does not follow that there will never
be 1 true rationalistic theory ; or, if no such theory is possible, it does not
fbUow that the Gospel narratives are more credible than that kind of historf
drdinarily is. Suppose we admit that there is sufficient evidence for tht
autiienticity and genuineness of the New Testament, if it did not treat of a
subject which more than all others is apt to be encumbered with snpersti-
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tion and mydi ; and tint it is because of ths iBcredtt>ility of that which is
recorded, that we question the received tsaditioii of its authorship. It was
manifestly the duty pf our author, if he intended to reach the rationalists
themselves, to show that the presumption against accepting miracles is un-
founded and unreasonable. Does he recognise this, and argue the question ?
^ut his reasons are applicable to those only who already admit his conclu*
sions. For those who are inclined to £uth only in miraculous interposition,
he makes out a plausible case for some gospel miracles. He admits that his
argument does not have weight with one who denies the legitimacy of the
idea.
^ Every theist knows " we are told, <' that supernatural interposition has
occurred in the past ; that aU things which he beholds owe their existence
to such an exertion of the divine will. For he traces them all to an art of
creation." This would be a very good argument if it were a £M:t ; but the
naturalist denies any such supernatural interposition in the past, and there*
fore the argument is worthless to him. He believes that, however and
whenever the things which we behold about us came into being, they came
in accordance with the universal law of growth.
If miracles could be proved to be possible, that would be one step cer-
tainly toward «the acceptance of them as actuaL But here, too, the real
meaning of the problem is not apprehended. 'Ms it necessary to argue this
point before a believer in God ? " To which we answer : it is ; because,
first, one might believe in God, and not in God's being such that it would
be morally possible for him to work miracles. If there is any better way
for him to accomplish his purposes than by miracles, then it will not be
possiiile for him to work then^. And, second, the very idea of miracle may
be such as to render it an absolute impossibility. Suppose it were called a
miracle to make a triangle so that the three included angles should be more
or less than two right angles. Is that miracle possible with God ? But no
'one dairas that God can do that which involves contradictions I Well ! it
ought, by this time, to have been discovered that when the possibility of
miracles is denied, it is only meant that a miracle is a chimera, a contradic-
tion in terms. Is the creation of the world out of nothing miraculous ? It
is Impossible, like the equation o «r> i. No matter to whom the making of
such an equation is attributed, it is an impossible one. And if zero cannot
equal one, it cannot become one, equation out of nothing is impossible.
Zero contains nothing of which to make one. There can be something where
there was nothing only by importation. The nearest approach the philosophi-
cal theist can msdce to the pc^ular conception of creation is the assumption
that God willed the objective manifestation of himself in that form which we
call the world, that which is now visible in space existed previously in God.
^In defining a miracle," sa3rs Professor Fisher, '<we pledge ourselves
to no particular theory concerning the constitution of nature. If the new
doctrine of the persistency of force should be established, our present dis-.
eussion would not be sensibly aflected.'* A surprising statement ti-ulyl
We had supposed it would completely set aside the idea of miracle. Th«
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doctrine of the conservatkm of force is, that whenercr an event transpires it
is only old force taking on new manilestation, and that whenever a gives
phenomenon disappears, the force therein embodied has passed into other
forms — that force is able to have neither absolute beginning nor end.
Does that tally with creation, or with miracle in any form ? (for all miracle
is of the nature of creation.) According to the law referred to^ the framSsg
of the world, and every other possible event can only be regarded as exist-
ing power going into particular manifestation, like the formless elements of
nature combining into a tree, or the voluntary energy of man passing into
actual deed ; and if such things are miraculous, where is the natural ? Pro-
fessor Fisher says that *^ Pascal has exactly hit the true nature of a miracle,
when he terms it a result exceeding the natural force of the means em*
ployed.'' We should say, that is exactly the idea of magic Pascal's defi-
nition excludes the law of the conservation of force. Nay I it strikes at the
very idea of cause and effect, which implies an equipoise between the ante-
cedent and the consequent What is the meaning of this assumption that
events may happen out of the relation of cause and effect ? What is it but
the ignoring of science, and all sober thinking ? The principle of cause and
effect is not an accidental thing, resulting from a particular and arbitrary
constitution of nature. It is something intrinsic and necessai^ in any workl
— any possible universe. Two and two do not equal four by some chance.
They never can help it — God cannot Precisely so of cause and effect
When anything comes to pass it does not come out of nothing ; nor by
hocus pocus, magic, or accident can there be more or less in the effect than
in the cause. That which was in one form has taken another form. The
antecedents being what they were, the consequents could not be otherwise
than they are. Miracle therefore is impossible ; that is, it seems so to ns ;
and if Professor Fisher's book had not been intended for home consamption,
he would have thought it necessary to make some show oC opposition to
this vital, fundamental objection, and not spend all his strength on side
issues regarding which we are comparatively unconcerned.
That such is its real intention is not less evident from another point d
view. When one undertakes in good faith to convince another of lus error,
he does not begin with opprobrious epithets, or dark insinuations. He
enters upon the work in a conciliatory, or at least an appreciative spirit
He does not assume his own infJEdlibility or his opponent's special depravity.
In saying this, we do not mean to charge Professor Fisher with unusoal
discourtesy. But if that of which we complain is general, there is all the
more reason for our complaint It does seem as though the Evangelicals,
the moment they refer to those who reject thebr views, forget the human
relation in which they stand to their opponents. Only in theological con-
troversy would the treatment to which disbelievers are subject be tolerated.
Does Professor Fisher give modem skeptical writers the credit of aa im-
proved moral tone, of apparent sincerity, and of unquestionable schoiardup ?
It is only for the sake of a defter and more deadly thrust He hints that
beneath the fur show of honor, ^ there lies deep down in the heart an on-
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Book Notices. 359
wholesome fountain of Intter feeling with reference to die doctrines and
restraints of religion." In his view our exterior is deceptive, Satan trans-
forming himself into an angel of light ; and the Christian world is warned
to beware of our seductions. Professor Fisher may thus encourage a vul-
gar prejudice among his partisans, but to others he can only make his cause
the more absurd. Believers, it seems, enjoy that spiritual Ulumination and
delicate moral sense which enable them to see the force of such reasons as
are adduced for supematuralism, while disbelievers have had their tastes so
depraved, and their intellects so darkened by the fall as not to be able to
appreciate them. It does not seem to have occurred to our author, that
the baleful effects of the fall may be manifest in the character of the popu-
lar theology ! ** Possibly God has so arranged it, that while this proof is
sufficient to satisfy one whose spiritual eye is open to these realities, it is
yet indued with no power to create conviction where such is not the fact**
Our friends who depend so much upon scriptural quotations, must not for-
get about the two men who went up into the temple to pray, and what Jesus
said of the one who thanked God that he was not as other men are.
D. B.
The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte. By John Stuart
Mill. Boston : William V. Spencer. 1866. pp. 182.
Of all the writings whose subject has been the philosophy of Comte, we
like this the best, because it performs the two chief requisites of a critical
examination : it explains the nature of Positivism and corrects the misrep-
resentations which have been made of it, mainly by English writers. Under
this head the errors of Mr. Herbert Spencer, in the pamphlet which he
wrote to refute the charge that he was a Positivist, are very acutely
shown.
Wherever Mr. Mill dissents from the positions of Comte, or from his
ase of certain words, his objections are clearly stated, and carry great
weight But he accepts the general principles of Positivism, which indeed
he shows to be not original with Comte, but ahready underlying all scien*
t^c speculations, and essential to them.
There are two papers in this volume. The first is devoted to a minute
development of the philosophy, the second to an examination of Comte's
writings of his second period, and of his Religion of Humanity. Mr. Mill
shows what is ridiculous in this, but tenderly, as he decUures that the pro-
foundness of Comte's convictions must protect him from ridicule. The
tone of the paper is as admirable as its style. He brings out of Comte's
later rage for systematizing, the true thoughts that are embedded in it, and
that never deserted his great intellect
To all who desire to arrive in a convenient way, and with little loss of
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time, at an undtrstanding of the main points of Positiviam, and of its excel**
lencies and defecjts, we recommend Mr. Mills' generous, sympa^ietic yet
critical volume. J> v.
Thb Theolooibs. Bv Gbrritt Smith, pp. a8.
The writer of this pamphlet does not deny that many great and precious
^ths are scattered through all the theologies which now keep the Giristiao
world sectarian : he thinks that these systems might be improved, bujt he
would prefer to see them all quickly demolished, that the truths which they
have imprisoned might escape and gather mankind into spiritual unity. Hiigf
object is, therefore, to show that true religion is to be learned from the fiurts
of matter and of mind, not primarily from the Bible, concerning which ht
says some sensible things, but from nature and mankind.
Of God's spirit he says, *^ that all men can receive of it, smd that its power
is such as to work in him, who opens wide his mind and heart to it, a
change so great as to be comparable to a new birth, and a resulting bles-
sedness, which Jesus well calls * the kingdom of God.' '' This is sufficientiy
evangelical But he speaks severely of the Old Testament and the Jewish
Theology, which have lent to Christendom its most fovorite doctrines of
eternal punishment, an unforgiving God, a deified Jesus, a vicarious
Saviour, a supernatural man.
We have only space for one extract from this plain spoken and courageous
pamphlet
** Great stress is laid on the importance of having our knowledge in tfas
sphere of i^orals and religion attai? to cert^ty i and hence the argument
fbr a direct rev^ation of the thi^gf of 4ut sphjere. But tiie mistake vhich
lies at the bot^m (>i all thi^ is the underrating q( human powers and human
dignity. It is c^t man, but beings q( an inferior grille, that need certainty
in their knowledge. The beaver and the bee have it in their sure instincts.
But man's high faculties supersede the necessity as well of instinctive as of
revealed certainty. It is tr\ie«that, instead of getting out in li(e, as does the
^rute, with all the knowledge he needs, he is to Ubor for it throughout his
Ufe. But it is alsQ true thM, with the help oi those high £u:ulties, he can
labor successfully for it He requ^es not the sure guidaxn^e of either uv;
stinct or revelation. Enou^ for him is it thaty by means of those fs^ties»
^e can W ever ^ypprosu;h^ig certainty. < The prions luvcertainty of ti^
Iftyf,' i^Ot in ^ inH^iqd ff^nse on^, Ijiss become a ppoyerb. But more gV>fv
9ns are t)^ unc<^rtai^tie# i^ sub^lwe, moral snd religiQi^ truth, thrg^v^
yffkifh in^ m^ bf^ ^V}er ^^rotkinf his w^y up iQ.war^ ti\e distant <in4 per-
haps mever avaJl^Ule goal 9f ^re cfirti^nty. Les§ing fw nght in holding
t^ ijt is the pursuit, qior^ ihs^ ti;^ gop^iision of tn^h i^rhich ennoble*
and glorifies man.** j. Wt
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THE RADICAL.
JUNE, 1866.
THE CHARACTERISTICS OF TRUTH.
BY R. T. HALLOCK.
TRUTH is a word variously defined. Sometimes it represents
a moral quality — as when we say, "a man of truth." Or, It
may be applied to a statement, or to history, &c. Its deep-
est popular signification appears to be our perception of things, ^t
things themselves are truths, and would be, all the same, though we
did not perceive tiiem. The common uses of the word do not ex«
haust its meaning.
The perception of truth is knowledge. Its appreciation is wisdom.
There may be true knowledge and true wisdom, but truth is beyond,
and independent of, our mental states. It is a noun, and gathers
no strength from adjectives. Nouns and verbs — trutiis in action —
make up the universe. Other parts of speech conveniently express
our notions and feelings concerning it We go to market to buy
substantives, not adverbs and adjectives ; these latter terms are only
commentaries on the translation. That ancient Sage who said, " buy
the truth," had some eternal nouns in his mind, I take it.
For the purpose of this discourse I use the word in that sense. I
Use it as standing for all that is real — all that is, whether spiritual
or physical. As a noun in the singular number, it signifies (lU uses in
one complex. To traffic in its items, therefore, is to " buy " realities.
Truth has many characteristics as well as various forms. The
commercial expression just mentioned suggests several. To be told
to buy the truth, strikes one, at first thought, as at least unnecessary,
because there is a man in every pulpit ready to give you all the eter-
nal truth your soul can need throughout eternity, if you will but be-
lieve him j and besides, the universe within and without is all truth.
In this vast store-house of living pearls there is nothing false, all is
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362 The Radical.
real, all is true, save and except only our imperfect estimate of their
significance. It might be thought, therefore, that now and then a
pearl might be had as a gift But it seems not ; some of them were
deemed '' of great price " years ago. We read of a man who sold all
he had to buy one.
This then, is a characteristic of truth, namely, that it cannot be had
except by purchase. You caA get no more than you pay for. The
entire lot is for sale to any man able to pay the cash, but upon each
item there is a label- which reads — no gift, no trust Our modem
theologians seem never to have seen that label ; owing doubtless, to
their never having examined the matter in a good light But with
what currency, what is the nature of the cash we are to pay ?
The question of currency leads us to another characteristic, to wit ;
*that truth can only be bought with truth ; that is to say, yourself must
be as true as is the truth you would buy, else there can be no trans-
fer of goods. Truth can only impart itself to truth. Between the
real and the sham-real there can be no commerce ; so it allows itself
to be possessed only by the true. Neither will it exchange itself for
gold. It dictates its own medium, and that is, the ioving aspiration of
the souL Nothing less precious can buy a truth. Nor can it be
given, however willing might be the giver, because he who has no
disposition to buy it is void of the capacity to receive it gratuitously.
The universe, as I have said, is an exhaustless store-house of truth,
and a man may have as much of it to-day, as Jesus had ; only he
must bid as high and in the same circulating medium. Judas did not
get what he wanted for his thirty pieces of silver, and it appears that
the Jews made as little by the speculation as did Judas. This goes
to show that while on the one hand, truth cannot be bought for gold,
so neither can it be sold for silver with any profit to either party in
contract. It must be a fallacy, therefore, that truth, which holy men of
old purchased with their heart's love, can be bought at " The Bible-
house " for dollars and cents, and its benefits secured to us by any
such bargaining.
A narrative of truth may be bought with money, or may be trans-
fered from age to age, but truth itself is not a subject of transfer. It
cannot be bequeathed. Were this possible, the wise parent would
leave his children wise. Could we obtain the truths of Jesus by a
purchase of " the four gospels," the church to-day would be like him.
It would be clothed with his wisdom and his power.
As a nation, we have been surfeited with the phrase — "The truth
handed down to us by the Fathers." They " handed down " no truth to
us. They left the statement on paper, of what they deemed a truth
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The Characteristics of Truth. 363
self-evident ; but Garrison, Phillips, Parker, Smith and other noble
men and women strove for more than a quarter of a century, to make
that truth of the Fathers a practical reality in the nation, and without
success. Its most sacred institutions — its churches, colleges, acade-
mies and schools, made common cause with its theatres, its grog-shopt
and its " democracy " against it, and for more than eighty years of otK
national life prevented all political movement of that statement from
the paper upon which it was originally written. The paper simply con-
tained the name of a great truth, as do our sacred books. But around
the truth itself, "the Fathers " even wrapped the mantle of the com-
promise, and all but smothered it in its cradle. They hoped to hand
it down, but their own acts created an insuperable difficulty, whilst a
want of moral and political intelligence in the nation made it impos-
sible. No, that truth of the fathers was not handed down. . The na-
tion bought it only within the last four years with its own blood upon
the battle-field ; and now that it has been purchased at this cost of
bloody sweat, we simply see that the Fathers had it too, and that
Garrison had it, for the truth is one and eternal, and all eyes see it
alike that see it as it is. It is the besetting blunder of theology, as it
has been of our politics, that it mistakes the statement of truths for
the truths stated. It is as though we were to confound a man with
his name.
I repeat then, it is a characteristic of truth, that it can only be had
by purchase, and that the only currency which procures it is the love
of it ; and further, that the only economy that secures it is fidelity.
Love of a truth is the key that unlocks its secrets. There is no other.
But it may be answered, the nation did not love the truth it paid for
— that it saw no moral, only a "military necessity" for the act
True, while in the heat of the bargain ; but even then the nation
did love, the military necessity was bom of it It loved patriotism,
nationality. It loved to the extent of sacrificing all else to save that.
It loved better than it knew.
And this reveals another trait in this family of many virtues — its
brotherly helpfiilness. Proofs of this lie scattered in all the paths of
human research, but let it suffice to assert here, that the purchase of
a single truth will secure the co-operation of the whole family to wliich
it naturally belongs. Truth is clannish. There is an honest family
pride about it that will not let one of its members suffer — will not let
a man who invokes the aid of the least of its little ones go unaided.
The nation was patriotic. Its love in this respect was natural and
true ; so the other truth came to its rescue.
But did Garrison and his friends accomplish nothing by their thirty
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364 The Radical.
years of effort ? Yea^ good, beyond all present power of estimate.
Not directly the good they set out to achieve, because truth must not
ofiend justice which is a member of the family, and justice required
that they who had nursed the lie in their bosoms for three generations^
should, by their own arts, impel the cutting of it out ; but there was
a necessity also, that when the time came for the inevitable surgery,
there should be enough of moral strength in the nation to ensure it
convalescence. Their efforts mainly supplied it They have created
a back ground of principle here in the North, against which the
surges of cupidity and political policy mil beat in vain.
And they too are an illustration of the helpfulness of truth. When
they began the work for the southern slave, they were themselves,
mostly, the slaves of a theological oligarchy. Their souls were bound
*in every limb by a creed more cruel than tiie lash of the planter, and
more strangely absurd than the untutored faith of the Negro whom
they sought to secure from its infliction. So the lifting up of their
voices for physical freedom rallied to their aid the hosts of frat
truth ; and the effort to strike the chains from the shoulders of the
southern chattel, loosed the fetters on their own spirits. The love of
things is the " philosopher's stone " which turns them into uses. It is
the talisman which crowns research with success. All things do so
aspire to be in sympathy with man that, if he can but return their love,
they will reveal to him all they know of themselves or that he can
understand. This is apparent on the lowest plane. To get wealth
one has only to love gold supremely It will reveal all the good bar-
gains, it will disclose all the deep mysteries of trade. You know what
the mechanic is who loves his profession, as compared with one who
only follows it for his daily bread.
I meet Clergymen and other professors of what is vgunted as '' the
only saving faith," who say, " I would give all I possess for the assur-
ance which you seem to have of another life." Now, this is their self-
deception. Why have they not assurance to their heart's content ?
If the church of the first century founded its &ith upon facts of its own
observation, and lived upon a present inspiration, why should the
church of the present day starve upon history ? Is God asleep, or
has his love become cold ? The reason is not there, it is here — the
kv€ of the church has become cold. Read the churchman's love in
his life, and it will be seen that he loves his prejudices, loves tradi-
tion, loves his creed, loves his church ceremonial, loves his good
name with the world, if not its loaves and fishes, better than any proof
of immortality that immortality itself can give him. With these
shams uppermost in his affection» no truth of the future can come
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The Characteristics of Truth. 365
near him. So he passes through this' life in doubt and fear of the
next, comforted only by the scholastic fiction that his eternal welfare
may be secured by praising virtue not in himself. ♦
This persistent adherence to history which forms the staple of pop-
ular faith, that is to say, of the no rea/ faith of the church of the pres-
ent day, suggests another important family trait, which is, that the
latest bom truth demands precedence in our attention over all its
kindred. The successive births of truth are always in the ratio of hu-
man needs. The world is only safe while it is faithful to the eternal
revelation. Each new birth is, in its kind, a new gospel, and is re-
jected at the peril of sure condemnation. Only he that receiveth it is
saved. Thus, when the steamboat furnished the most rapid means of
conveyance, the blessing was common to all. No man could travel
faster or send intelligence in advance of its speed. But when the^
Railway came, opening a new chapter in the gospel of locomotion,
then the man with whom " time is money " knew that, to save him-
self, the more ancient truth, though none the less a truth, must give
place to the later revelation. He was well enough before, but the
moment that truth was fairly bom into the world, his commercial
health could be preserved in no other way.
All that tmth requires in any age is faithfulne^ to the revelation
thereof. This demand is supreme and universal. Thu3 when
Moses represented the highest religious thought yet bora, and the
Jews were faithful to it, they prospered. When Jesus came, salvation
was no longer in Moses. The inevitable penalty for rejecting a new
tmth is, that you shall not understand the old. No new revelation
of tmth ever dishonored an older one ; on the contrary, it is both an
added power to the soul and a clearer illustration of the tmth that
had gone before. Through its means we learn the philosophy of thie
old. We rarely get the tme meaning of events until after they have
long transpired, and never until they are revealed in the light of a
new revelation of principles directly to our own souls. History cor-
responds to the fertilizing matter which the husbandman applies to
his soil : you may send the roots of your soul down into it and draw
precious elements of growth from out the decaying rubbish, but tte
farmer's glory is in his crop ; he does not worship the manure heap.
Moreover, the birth of a tmth, like that of a child, is saved alive by .
sympathy and tenderness. As in the case of the Jewish Saviour, it
usually occurs in a stable, or at best among homed cattle, and its
first demand is charity, that it may not be gored to deathl Do we
fully realize the constant perils that environ every such birth ? Even
in our own age of boasted liberality these new Saviours have a hard
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366 The Radical.
time of it Such is the clatter of denunciation around some, that the
relatives must needs take it into Egypt that it may have a chance to
grow a little. Says the pseudo scientist, " It contradicts my theory
of things." " It opposes my Bible," brawls the school-made theolo-
gian. '^ It is a dangerous humbug," cries the one ; '' It is a damna-
ble heresy," responds the other. Nor b this all. It is in danger
from its friends as well as its open foes. To those who love it, its
features are so beautiful, it gives such promise of power in the earth,
that enthusiasm is prone to deepen into fanaticism. Under its influ-
ence, the new thing is distorted and exposed to the multitude in an un-
seemly garb. In the heat of this unreasoning love it is assumed that
the new birth is to utterly annihilate the value of all previous births ;
forgetting in the delirium of delight, that the newly bom truth is in
reality but an added jewel to a diadem which encircles the brow of
all human experience.
These dangers point the demand for pre-eminent attention on the
part of the wise. Truths already verified can take care of themselves.
The new truth asks for that exalted charity which, according to Paul,
"Rejoices in the truth;" that is to say, which can look upon a new
truth without prejudice. Wanting this, well might that ancient clair-
voyant exclaim, "1 become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."
He could become nothing else. A man wanting the charity to look
kindly upon a new bom truth, insults its parentage and casts disrespect
upon the family. Through his brazen throat no truth can flow. He
shuts the windows of his soul against t}ie light of a new day, and amid
the anthem of " the morning stars " is heard — a tinkling cymbal.
This explains why the self-styled Christian pulpit utters such hol-
low sounds. It benevolently gives its soul to the creed, and its body
to bronchitis : but it has no charity for a truth " in its teens," and,
from the inevitable law of the case, has become a mere brazen mech-
anism, uttering such sounds only as brass can give.
This persistent futility of utterance, points another noteworthy
feature in the relation of truth to man, which is, that whatsoever is
most loved, places the lover on a level with itself. Now truth, like
man, is dual ; that is, it has a body and a soul — is both a principle,
or essence, and a form. The outside of a truth is what we call a fact,
as the outside of a man is a body. But the phenomenon, or form of
a principle, like that of a human being is a decomposable structure ;
the principle, or soul thereof, is the eternal thing. It is in this exter-
nal structure that disease inheres, that mistakes occur, that error
reigns and discord triumphs, while at the core all things are sound.
Now, to love the body of a tmth, ig^noring its soul, — to bow down to
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The Characteristics of Truth. 367
a mere statement — is to take upon one's own soul all the infirmities
of the body that it loves. The soul's aspiration is bounded by its
affection. Book worship is body worship ; and truly, " the letter kil-
leth," for the church is dead.
Now, the dual nature of man, that is to say, the soul truth and
the body fact, makes both the upper and the lower, or the temporal
and the eternal loves legitimate, but the undue preponderance of either
destroys the symmetry of character. To underestimate the things of
this life is as ruinous to the normal growth of the soul as the opposite
course. While in this world, no man, without loss, can dismiss it
from his affection as an unholy thing. Bom a citizen of the earth as
to his body, and striving to live wholly in heaven, blinds his senses
to both, and in place of a philosopher produces a lunatic. On the con-
trary, bom a citizen of heaven as to his soul, yet loving only the earth,
•brings the soul to a level with the hog. To the devout Romanist, pro-
test to the contrary as he will, God can never be more than six feet
higher than the pontifical toe which he kisses with his soul's rever-
ence. He is simply an invisible man, and a sorry specimen even of
that Your truth can lift you no higher than itself. If you bow
your soul to a form, you are concluded by a form, be it a Pope or be
it a protestant creed. In vain is the worshipper's proclamation that he
bows to the tmth within the dogma, because the animus of the creed
is form ; for although it speaks of the Infinite, it is the Infinite in form,
and the worship of whatever is in form, is not the worship of the
Infinite, for that which is in form is inevitably finite. In order to
. more clearly realize the mischief of this misdirected affection, we have
only to imagine the Christian world divested of all aids to spiritual
growth arising from the irrepressible instincts of the individual, and
left entirely to what it calls its religion. Suppose, for example, a
man to be nothing more than a Presb3rterian or a Roman Catholic I
I leave you to draw his portrait
A summary of the foregoing teaches, —
.1. That no tmth is to be had without its price, duly paid. That it
demands the cash on delivery ; showing that the soul, like the body,
although it subsists upon somewhat different food, and need never be
pinched by " short crops," gets its living only " by the sweat of its
brow."
2. That tmth selects its own market, and dictates the medium of
exchange ; in other words, no tmth can be had but by the tmth-loV-
ing man ; and by inference, the popular belief that the Sunday fiil-
mination of ancient tmths by way of charm against " the wrath to
come " gives possession of their saving power, is a fallacy ; because,
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368 The Radical.
in judgment of law, that transitiony though h^ld in high esteem, does
not carty title.
3. That truth is never, in die popular sense, " handed down." On
the contrary, it does not become our own untH it is " handed up " out
of the soul into the consciousness and the life.
4. That fidelity to one truth brings to our aid all cognate truths ;
showing that " brotherly love " continues with that ancient family,
however it is dispensed with by mankind ; and further, is in fulfilment
of a former discovery, to wit : that faithfulness in a little makes one
ruler over much.
5. That the birth of a truth demands earnest attention and cheer-
ful hospitality at our hands, because it is a new power come to sup'
ply a new need in the economy of humanity, and in its infancy, re-
quires to be protected, first, from the inmates of the stable, and then
from the magnates of the church. *
6. That the truth we love elevates or depresses us to its own leveL
Showing, inferentially, that we would do well to love in the divine or-
der, and that it is as debasing to bow down to the image of a truth
as it would be to prostrate ourselves before an image of God.
I have grouped these characteristics here, the better to show that
diey culminate in the one grand feature of unity. We know how all
of what we call the sciences aid each other ; that through the entire
round there is but one left out in the cold — ^theology \ but of that
anon. It is a necessity of the reason that the universe should rest
on principles which accord. The admission of order as existing any-
where involves the conclusion that it must reign supreme everywhere.
Were it a chaos, like the religious world, it must needs be the theatre
of antagonisms ; but being a universe, unity within and without is its
supreme necessity and law of preservation.
The senses show us that this unity is a universal fact throughout
the realm of physics. Every item in the past catalogues of achieve-
ment in mundane uses rests upon it. To produce a good, forces
combine. No one principle acts alone. Fire and water unite to cre-
ate steam ; iron furnishes the receptacle, and the resultant use is
power. So, everywhere. In our researches for truth, as was said,
each science aids its fellow. No fact contradicts another, no new
discovery but confirms and illuminates that which was aforetime veri-
fied. Were there the least break in this chain of unity and mutual
stipport anywhere, whether in the realm of matter or of spirit, of phys-
ics or of morals, no science, no truth could establish itself in human
consciousness. The popular faith has been pushed up to the admis-
sion that the human body, like every other, is the subject of determinate
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The Characteristics of Truth. 369
principles, but it still insists that the human soul, unlike every other
reality in the universe, is amenable only to certain statiitoiy precepts.
Were this true, and did the break occur here, that is, should the known
unity of physical truth find no responsive counterpart in the realm
of spirit, Man, as a spiritual entity, could be in no relation, whether
consciously or unconsciously, to the body in which he lives, while, as a
sensuous being, the acts of his body could have no effect upon the
soul. The body, under the rule of eternal principles, and the soul
subject only to statutes formed by arbitrary will, no matter how well
designed, would be the subjects of governments so utterly unlike that
they could not possibly unite in anything. Nay, they could not so
much as know of each other's existence. Nay, there could be no
such thing as body and soul. It is by the unity of principles spiritual
and physical that we are. Yea, man is dom of the unity of truth.
Scholastic theology is not ; and therefore — well, never mind. It
names itself " the science of God and divine things," but as it per-
mits no ascertained science to meddle with it, it is more than pre-
sumable that the said independent science has put " divine things "
topsy turvey. As a unity, it surely might touch some truth in the
universe without defiling its fingers, one would think, or at least look
kindly on some known fact in this outside world, but it does not. Its
most ardent disciples even, are split into factions which agree in noth-
ihg save a total misapprehension of die life and character of Jesus
of Nazareth. Its tenets agree with no principle or fact in nature.
Every child born into the world is a demonstrative contradiction of its
fundamental dogma, and its ''plan of salvation " is a self-refuting
fiction. Civilization is not what it is by virtue of it, as it falsely
prates, but in spite of it Like Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress,
it has crawled through the sloughs of despond and along the steep
places of the ages with that upon its back.
Alone, and unsupported from above or from below, by natural fact
or eternal principle, this " scheme " of the schools imprudently affects
superiority ovef, and independence of all that is known of nature, or
is true in man. Its throne is human ignorance. Its power is fear.
It even bids us love God because, under certain circumstances, he
gets terribly angry.
This phantom of unreality — this ghost of nothing, this harlot birth
of the old time and of the old world, stands in the mid-day sun of
the nineteenth century, face to face with this nation whose brow is yet
sweaty with its death-struggle for realities. Wisdom against ecclesias-
tical cunning, truth against cant ; it is meet and proper that the con-
flict should be here, and now. The nation, with tearful eye, has seen
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370 The Radical.
what the "curse of Ham," and the " letter to Onesimus." taken as
divine au&ority for hiunan action, le^d to. This nation, unlike every
other, has a sound principle for its basis, and has just learned its
value at bitter cost It has marked well the attitude which European
institutions, religious and political, assumed during its struggle for
life. It has seen them fellowship slavery for no other reason than
the hope that it mi^ destroy the Republic. It is beginning to see
that, were the nation^ vitally, either Roman Catholic or Episcopalian,
the Republic could not be.
The logic of events, therefore, has forced the conflict upon us. It
will not be bloody like the one through which we have passed, but it
will be earnest, sharp, and protracted. It is America against the
world — Civilization based upon the assumption of " divine right" and
** Apostolic succession," against civilization resting upon the natural
right of equality before God and the law — the right of the nineteenth
century to all the Divine love^ all the revelation, all the spiritual in-
sight enjoyed by any other preceding centu^.
On this one truth of natural right, we may plant our feet for the
mental conflict, s^id demand with irrefutable logic that no theplogical
dogma shall insult that We have seen enough of the broad sweep
of the principle of unity to affirm that it is . the key-note of the uni-
verse, and, of consequence,^. that any ^d every doctrine ^at makes
discord with it b false. In the face of history, however sacred, and
of men however reverend, the ever-living truth erects her standard,
and on it is inscribed — " Unity," She demands that " your statement
to be true, shall agree with all else that is true. You shall impose it
upon mankind from no lower authority than that, and you need no
higher."
The battle and the victory are for us^. because of our one truth.
That lies cradled in the bosom of every other. It derives no support
from either king-craft or priest-craft In the mongrel system made
up of " divine right " and semi-popular suffrage existing on the other
side of the water, we know that the .divine right gentlemen, together
with the " apostolic succession " dignitaries were its deadliest foes.
They can be no other while they hold to that and its cognate dogmas.
Yes, the battle b with us — and the victory. But the blessing b for
all mankind.
" For, He that woriceth high and wiae
Nor pauseth in his plan,
Will take the san out of the skies,
Ere freedom out of man ! "
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THE NEW SPIRIT AND ITS FORMS.
BY O. B. ntOTHINGHAM.
THERE are differences of administration, for the very reason
that it is the same God who worketh all in all. It. is the identity
of the Spirit which demands the diversity of fo]:m, for the form
shows how the spirit adapts itself to the age. God is permanent, men
are transient God is always the same, men change from generation
to generation. Nothing can modify the Creator, but the creature is
modified by his circumstances, and his circumstances are never con-
stantly the same. Even God seems a diffei;ent being to men at differ-
ent epochs of history. Even the Spirit seems to be ^ many different
things, as the human mind at different periods apprehends ;t. The
Spirit in man will not express its faith, its hope, its love, its worship,
ih precisely the same way in all countries, in all ages, among^ all peo-
ple. It will express itself in a hundred different ways. All men do
not speak Syriac or Greek. The Spirit in man will not be effectually
touched by the same means in all countries, in all ages, among all
jieople. If the Spirit is to flow it must be left, free to. follow the
channels that are open. If the Spirit is to be touched, it must be
touched by such means as are offered. In other words, there must be
a correspondence between the Spirit and its forms, otherwise neither
the Spirit nor its form^ will live. The . Spirit finds no expression ;.
the forms give none. We speak of pena^ent forms. There are no-
such things as' permanent forms. No forms are everlasting. No^
forms of society, no forms of government, especially po forms of re-
ligion. They must change — the attempts to prevent their changing;
results in the deadening and defeating of the Spirit Our only
chance of getting the Spirit at work, is to provide such an adminis-
tration of it as shall assist and not embsurass its movement Every
where our suffering comes from the attempt to confine the new Spirit
to the old form. Society attests ^is, the State attests it, the Church
attests it, which refused to adopt an administration of affairs that was
suited to the new Spirit which was animating the people. It was the
unwillingness to accommodate institudons to ideas, it was the deter-
mination to retain the forms of the. fifteenth century along with the
soul of the nineteenth, that occasioned that tremendous convulsion
from which we have by no means recovered yet The murder of the
President, of which yesterday was the anniversa^, was but another
terrible sign of the fatal effects that must ensue from putting ne^
wine into old bottles.
Let us consider how in the adminbtration of Religion the forms
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372 The Radical,
have adjusted themselves, and must go on adjusting themselves to
the Spirit
The old Spirit, or the Spirit as it was apprehended in die old
times, underrated, humiliated, almost poured contempt upon man ; it
did pour contempt upon him in hb natural state as a mortal creatiu^.
It felt that it could not exaggerate hb weakness, his poverty, his per-
ishableness, his mental imbecility, his spiritual decrepitude, his worth-
lessness in the regard of Deity. It was forever dwelling on the
shortness of his existence, the feebleness of his hold on the world,
his powerlessness against the elements, his peril from a host of ene-
mies, the violence of his passions, the fickleness of his purposes, the
inconstancy of his will, his short-sightedness, and his misery, hb need
of restraint and subjection. It called him by the vilest names, called
him slave, and worm, heaped all manner of opprobrium upon him.
Thb was the old Spirit everywhere. It was in conforming with this
spirit that despotic governments asserted the divine right of their ex-
istence, that standing armies guarded the throne, that legions of pol-
iticians repressed every movement of the popular mind, that savage
laws and barbarous institutions did the work of keeping the spirit of
liberty down. Man was a wild beast to be caged and chained.
Religion did its part to encourage and perpetuate thb spirit Re-
ligion called man by the hardest names, held him in the sternest sub-
jection, and overwhelmed him with the most appalling terrors. Her
chief administration was aimed at impressing man with a sense of
hb own insignificance and beggary. Its forms were all constructed
on the idea of his worthlessness, and framed with a view to making
him feel small. In the temple he was made to feel himself a pigmy,
an ant crawling over the vast stone floor. The immense spaces, above
and around, the height, the depth, the gloom, the glory, the tall pil-
lars, losing themselves in the twilight, the ponderous arches, the
dizzying spires and spreading dome, the mysterious light, the crypts,
the celb, the chapels, all conspired to dwarf man — to oppress him
with space and silence, to beat down his pride, humble his reason,
and overawe his imagination. They shut him out from the sunshine
and the air. They were worlds in themselves, worlds in which he
lost himself in nothingness.
Everything else was arranged to produce the same effect The
sacraments were perpetually reminding him that in himself he had no
spiritual life To get spiritual life he must go down on his knees,
and eat this bread, which was not bread, but the very body of God —
drink this wine, which was not wine, but the very blood of God, con-
fessing as he did it, that there was no life in him.
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The New Spirit and its Forms. 373
The creed made a point of baffling and insulting his reason. Its
merit was that it could not be understood. He was to believe it
because it was incredible. The altar fenced in from vulgar approach,
with the strange emblems all about it, reminded him that he was a
profane person whose feet must not touch holy places.
The consecrated priest, dressing as no other men dressed, living as
no other men lived, insulting human affections by having neither wife
nor child, neither home nor kindred, neither pleasure noi: business,
neither passion nor interest, stood above humanity, and flung it the
crust of bread that was to support its soul, mocking all the while its
miserable estate.
The pulpit was set up high above the multitude that the words
might drop down on them like manna from heaven. The sermon had
nothing to do with politics or business, or any worldly affairs what-
ever, but dealt with the great mysteries of faith and made a point of
affronting, staggering and crushing the human reason.
The Bible — the holy book — the book of enigmas — the book writ-
ten by the finger of God himself, and which God only through his
priests could interpret — the book which no created mind conceived,
and no created mind could understand : the venerable, the awful
book of enchantment, miracle and power — sole fountain of truth —
sole source of wisdom — sole spring of influence — was spread out on
its sacred cushion, and read with tone of authority which seemed to
say : " All other books save this are worthless. Your books of science,
history, poetry, literature — you may bum them all, they are miserable
products of the benighted intelligence of man. Good for nothing ;
only misleading him to his ruin." The human mind was deliberate-
ly insulted every time the Bible was opened, for the Bible, it was in-
timated, was the only book worth reading, and the human mind had
no hand in making it
The very music of religion was composed in the same spirit of de-
preciation of man. It helped to deepen his sadness, to embitter his
sorrow, to weaken his heart It drowned him in its great surges of
sound. It carried him away on the torrent* of its harmonies, it
plunged him into gulfs of despair, it troubled him, disturbed him, shook
him with fearful emotion, overstrained his feelings till they sank exhaust-
ed to the earth, dissolved him in a tumult of sensations which took away
his self-command. It did not express his own wishes ; it gave voice
to the Church's commands. It was the dianted creed. On every side
man was reminded of his want and littleness. On every side the .
sense of want and littleness was aggravated and intensifled by what
he saw and heard. He was encompassed^ about by humiliations.
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374 The R^idical.
Not a rite, not a. ceremony, not a usage, not an. emblem but bs^de him
bear in mind that he was a clod, or a reed having its root in a clpd.
He could not open a hymn book, or hear a prayer without having his
abjectness and his ignominy thrust into his face.
Is this spirit of contempt for man the prevailing spirit now ?
Everything bears witness that it is not The new spirit, or the spirit
as at present apprehended, is precisely the opposite of this. It is
respect for man, honor for man, confidence in man, belief in man, we
may almost say it is veneration for man. It takes man for granted,
worships him, exalts him, glorifies him, discovers in him all the hid-
den powers which aire to regenerate the world. Everything, J say,
attests this. Our whole modern life attests this, personal and social^
private and public, civil and political. Our republican institutions
rest upon it,^-our republican idea in its purest form is instinct with
it Our theories of popular liberty, of universal rights, universal
suffrage, universal education, all betray it Our protests against des-
potic rule, unequal legislation, aristocratic institutions, caste privi-
leges, arbitrary distinctions of orders and classes, are all eloquent
with it It inspires every popular movement Commerce is full of
of it, — trade is organized in accordance with it ; mechanical industry
claims to be regarded* and honored in the light of it It is this that
demands equal civil and political rights for black men and for white.
It is this that claims for woman the benefit of the principle " No tax-
ation without representation." It is this that calls for the recggnition
of the human even in the weak, the vicious, the criminal and the guilty.
All our achievements glorify man. Our industries demonstrate l^is
pdwer over the elements. Our sciences prove his ability to ^master
the secret of the universe. Our useful arts display his skill in adapt-
ing nature to his heeds. Our literatures exhibit his capacity of giv-
ing voice to every noble emotion, and every fine thought Our dis-
coveries evince his power to draw out the hidden wisdom which God
has stored away in his creation. Our inventions disclose his marvel-
lous tact in combining the elements of utility and beauty, and mak-
ing the forces above and below minister to him. Wherever we turn
we come upon the traces of this new spirit It is the most real ele-
ment in every modem thing. It gives the characteristic ?ign that a
thing belongs to the modern world. It has not possessed everything
yet ; it has not possessed government — witness the perversity of the
politicians who kneel with pregnant hinges before the President It
has not possessed criminal legislation — witness the barbarous execu-
tion of Edward Green, ten days ago, in Massachusetts. It has not
possessed education — witness the perverse unwillingness to educate
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The New Spirit and its Forms. 375
the blacks. It has not possessed politics — witness the stubborn ad-
herence to the old theories that taught the supremacy of Consti-
tutions over man. It has not possessed commerce — = witness the
absurd restrictions on trade. It has not possessed societ3;< — ^witness
the force of prejudice, the antipathy of race, class jealousies, and
the almost tiniversall>eKef yet that society cannot be siife unless some
classes of people are under the heel of certain other classes of peo-
ple. Indeed it has not plo^sessed fully any single department df
human thought oi* action. Nevertheless, it is the new spirit of ^wr
age^ — it is die r^reative spirit: it is the spirit that must, sooner or
later, modify, aher, remodel, transform our institutions, and ways of
life. Nothing can prevent it It will at last have its own forms of
administration, and all our safety depends on its having these formsr
just as fast as it caA procure them. All our safety hangs on the ease
with which it obtains them.
Already the administration of religion has confessed in many ways
the power of the new spirit, and has given ¥ray before it Many
things have been radically changed; some things have^been put
away ; all things have been modified. The vast, gloomy, oppressive
Cathedral is giving place to the spacious, open meeting-bouse, built
for the accommodation of the multitude assembled to hear the ser- .
mon, under cifcumstances most agreeable to that end ; the walls just
thick enough to protect the people from the weadier ; the ceiling just
high enough for proportion ; the i/rindows no longer darkening the
•day by their painted martyrdoms, but letting in the undimmed relig-
ious light of the skies.
The altar has become a simple table, no longer fenced within a
holy chancel, but standing on the floor within reach of all the people,
at the foot of fhe pulpit, where the light of the Word can fall full
upon it, and it can be swept Sunday after Sunday by the eloquent
periods on whose invisible wings the quickening spirit passes from
one earnest human heart to a multitude. Often the table is removed
altogether, and only brought out when it is wanted for the Commu-
nion. Sometimes it is never wanted and is omitted wholly.
The Saciraments are stripped of their mystery. , The Communion
is a simple memorial service, expressing man's gratitude to his great
brother, Jesus. No mystic virtue is in- it any more. Baptism is a sym-
bol, expressive of purity. The bread, the wine, the water are emblems,
not charms, which people may use or not as they please^ but which
there is no merit in iising or leaving.
The Creed tries how to be intelligible, and makes a merit of being
short The simpler it is the better, the more elastic the better. In-
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376 The Radical. •
stead of trying to baffle and browbeat reason, it respects reason, and
knows that its only chance of being received lies in its reasonable-
ness. Its duty is to convey ideas not to conceal them, to make things
plain, not to make them dark.
The priest has become a minister, who tries to conceal the fact that
he is a minister by making himself as far as possible, a man : he mar-
ries a wife ; he rears a family ; he w^ars clothes cut in the fashion ;
he walks and talks like other people : he goes to the club ; invests
money, if he has it, speculates in stocks, and loses money like other
men. He preaches in a secular coat, and in a secular manner, speak*
ing not as to dying men, but as to living. He preaches about every-
day matters, politics, business, the ethics of social life, manners,
amusements, puts as much common sense into his sermon as he can,
and delivers it in a way to interest and please his hearers. The pul-
pit is brought down and placed as near the level of the congregation
as possible, so that the speaker may be put into familiar relations
with them, may converse with them instead of fulminating at them ;
may act on them directly by voice, gesture, movement of brow and
lips, and may discharge on them the full magnetism of his personal
presence. The pulpit itself is a simple stand, sometimes a mere ta-
ble, interposing nothing heavy between the speaker and his hearers.
Slips are substituted for box pews, thus allowing the free passage
of air and of influence through long ranks of seats.
The Bible is read, and it is the only book that is read on occasions
of public religious service. But it is read and explained as a book
that has no virtue unless it be understood. Large portions of it are
omitted as unintelligible or uninteresting ; large portions are explained
away. Its texts ate used as mottos for sermons, not as inspired
utterances of truth. It is treated frequently as a noble piece of lit-
erature, the product of the human mind in its exalted states. It is
criticised by scholarship, Judged by reason* pronounced upon by the
moral sentiment of mankind.
^The prayers are aspirations, not intercessions ; utterances bearing
the human heart up, not voices caUing the divine heart down.
The Cathedral music is out of date. The people sing their own
hymns, or if they have a choir, the music selected is the popular mu-
sic which gives voice to the natural feelings of the heart, composed
by men who are full of the modem spirit Music of the concert-
room, the opera house, even of the street, the devil's music, as it used
to be called, adapted to the Lord's service. The voice of melody is
simple, sweet, touching, joyous. It is man singing his own song, not
the Church rolling forth down upon hini its avalanches of sound
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The New Spirit and its Forms. 377
These are great changes, radical changes. They show plainly.
enough that a new spirit is at work, even among those who will not
confess it ; and that spirit is, a respect for man^ for his nature, his
capacity, his needs, his desires, his achievements ; respect for man as
the thinker, worshipper, believer, builder, worker, maker of creeds
and Bibles, of churches and Confessions, organ of prophecy, and me-
dium of inspiration.
These are great changes, but other changes in due time must come/
making more complete accord still between the spirit and its voices.
At present the spirit has done nothing more than modify the old
forms, soon it must begin to fashion new forms for itself.
The idea is this, that the spirit instead of being a power quite oulr
side of man, brought to bear on him from a distant point and work-
ing on him to convert and save, is a power inside of man, flowing
through him, filling him out, and acting on external things from his
centre. Religion, instead of rescuing man from himself, must be
man's highest expression of Jiimself. Its forms must furnish this ex-
, pression. The time will come when our whole style of administra-
tion vdll conform to this idfea. The time will come when the pulpit,
instead of being above the people, will be below them, and flie seats
will rise around it, one above another, in the form of an amphithea-
tre. The preacher, standing in a focus, having the people so arranged
before him that he can command them easily with his eye, can hold
their gaze rivetted to him, and can send the waves of sound in vigor-
ous circles among them. The room will be high ^and light and airy.
The address will be unwritten, and the currents of power passing
swiftly from mind to mind, will fill each and all with a common sym-
pathy. All will be givers, and all will be receivers, and all will come
away from the service richer than they went in.
The time will come when the preacher, instead of being a man
trained amid solitude in book lore, will be a man well versed in prac-
tical wisdom, and accomplished in the sciences which promote the
welfare of his fellow men. A man full of great ideas, and experi-
enced in the principles or central rudiments of things. An expound-
er of the hidden wisdom of human life, his sermon no scholastic essay ^
or sentimental hafangue, but a wise discourse on matters of vital and
immediate moment in the personal and social interests of his fellow-
creatures.
The time will come when the books read in religious assemblies ,
will be books conveying the thoughts of the human mind, ^d the
sentiments of the human heart in their highest states ; not the books
of Hebrew faith only, but the book of human faith, in whatever age.
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378 The Radical.
by whatever people written ; not books of moral and religious sen-
timent merdy, but books t)f-wisdom, "reporting the deepest and most
essential knowledge oh all subjects which touch man's relation to the
divine causes, books of essential science, human and divine, books
that are the Bible of humanity.
The time will come when the music sung in sacred assemblies will
express not the penitence, the sorrow, the fear, the guilt, the unwor-
thiness, the humiliation of man, but his noble faith, and hope and
trust, in songs loftier than David ever sung; and sweeter than came fh>m
Wesle)r's devout muse : and music that expresses man's actual desire'
in that marvellous wSsiy of sound which no speech can imitate. The
time will come when the prayers, instead of being laments for sin,
sighs of languor, supplications for pardon, petitions for gifts, will be
the outbreaking thanks of the heart for the inestimable boon of ex-
istence, the still, deep breathing of the mind's faith in principles, its
confidence in truth, its trust in ordained law, its inextinguishable
hope in the happy future, its aspiration after sweeter wisdom and
purer life ; not man's " address at the Throne of Grace," but man's
communion in feeling with the loving spirit that is incorruptible in
all things. The spirit of Progress, Peace, and Power ; not man's
supplication to a God who is i'n Heaven, but man'3 sentiment of sym-
pathy with a Gk)d who is life of his life, and soul of his soul.
We would sketch thus our idea of a Christian establishment as it
will be in some time to come. It shall not be such a church as is
builded now, consisting of one large hall usable for religious purposes
only, ohce ih a w^6k, with a crypt below where the infant Christians
begin their lives Under ground, like plants preparing to meet the sun.
It shall be a cdpadous building, suitable for many purposes, and usa-
ble at all times. It shall stand, not in a fenced square by itself, but
on a thriving street, with the tides of human life flowing all around
it Its lowe^ flbor shall be used for business purposes, and shall
supply the meahs, ln-gi^at measure, for maintaining die institution
above, the wortd naturally supporting the Church. The second floor
shall contain a spa!cious reading room, with fltting furniture and ac-
commodations, a small library room with books of reference, a con-
versation rt>om, a coffee-room, a room for innocent amusement, with
a game 6f chess if hefed be. The third floor shall be devoted to a
lecture hall, 'spacious, airy, light, beautiful in appointment and dec-
oration, where during the week, able men shall give instruction in the
practical sdences and arts of life, and where on Sunday the preacher,
the chosen president or minister, shall, with accompaniments of wor-
ship and song more noble and spirituftl than now, give instruction in
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The New Spirit and its Forms. 379
the first principles and fundamental truths of life, in the causes from
which all things proceed, and the laws by which all things are con-
ducted, shall kindle the moral earnestness, warm ^e social sympa-
thies, stren^en the personal faith, sustain the individual hope, and
foster those private graces of the character which are nO less the glo-
ry of civili2{ati6n than the ornament of faith.
Such an establishment would meet a comprehensive want It will
give the individual all that the church gives him now in more attract-
ive form, under more vital administration, and at vastly less cost It
will offer to young men the advantage of social Kfe without its temp-
tations. It will supply the material for mental culture. It will afford
harmless and wholesome entertainment It will foster an interest in
great social questions, and will assist in begetting a spirit of human-
ity. It will bring great numbers of people directly under the power
of important truths, and recreating influences. It wiH bring religion
and life into daily and living association.
Such an establishment would be a gathering point for powerful
forces. It would have a constituency of its own. Its pastor-president
would sustain vital relation to his flock. It would have its commit-
tees to direct special operations looking toward the welfare of human-
ity. In particular emergencies it might render immense assistance
to struggling causes, or to struggling men. In average days it would
keep alive the spirit of progress and good will.
Such changes in the administration of religion, would not destroy
its spirit, they would develop it The one God who worketh all in
all, would still ihrork, and would work more vitally, because more free-
ly. Opening a channel for the fountain does not dry up the fountain.
The telegraph wires do not stop the lightning. Furnishing the spirit
with better tools will not quench it The river will become a marsh
if you dam it upl. The marsh will become a river if you open an
outlet
There will never be less religion in the world than there is now, doubt-
less there will be more than there is now. But in the future religion
must be social. It must mean social sentiment,' social science, social
co-operation, social harmony. It will assert the law of mutual service,
the law of kindness, it will draw its supplies from the perennial foun-
tain of kindness, which makes the stars sing together, and the worlds
hold fellowship, and the ages of history respond to each other, and
the races of mankind conffess themselves a family. It will still cele-
brate man's intercourse with God, but it will do this by celebrating
man's intercourse with man ; for God is in man, and only as man
nobly associates with man, in interest, purpose, feeling, aspiration.
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380 The Radical.
thought and deed, does man nobly associate with God. By bringing
men together as men, on high places of communion, by making them
sensible of their close and universal fraternity, by teaching them their
mutual dependence, by impressing upon them the privilege of mutual
service, by making them feel the earnest restraint of liberty, and the
glad freedom of dutiful work, it will more effectually perform its true
mission of extirpating selfishness, and bringing heaven and earth
together.
We have been saying this long time that only by loving man can
we show our love to God. But this is not enough ; we must go fur-
ther and say that only by loving man, that is by promoting humaa
fellowship, can we get any knowledge of God. Humanity does not
merely give us the field for exhibiting our religion, it gives us the field
for raising it We have old warrant for saying that we cannot love
God till we love man ; just as true that we cannot know God till we
know man. We have been talking for a long time about natiu'al the-
ology ; it is time to begin to talk about social theology. The stars
and the earth, and the bbdies of living creatures, are not the only things
that give evidence of the divine wisdom and love. The social state
of man gives vastly higher evidence. Social science is the best mod-
em teacher of theology, for that shows us the living Creator and the
active Providence, that unfolds God's working plan, interprets his
arrangements, declares his will, that draws out his divine attributes
in national and sympathetic form, and teaches us how we may not guess
them in symbols, but feel them in life. It would indeed be a shame
if we could find no more God in a mind than in a mineral, in a man
than in a meteor, in a community of human beings than in a group
of stars ; nay, it is my deep conviction that God will reveal himself
more splendidly than ever before, when we seek his revelations in the
truths that affect our daily happiness and the principles that regulate
our common life.
This question of religious administration is vital. It is simply the
question whether we mean to do anything with our faith or not Nay
it is a question whether we mean to keep our faith fresh, or not
The spirit is strong, it is very strong ; but as a pebble may deter-
mine the course of a river, so may the smallest obstruction of rite or
usage, out of place in the age, hinder its natural flow. Be it our
task to remove all such as fast as we can, to give the spirit free course,
that it may be glorified in us and through us.
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THE FOUNDATION OF THE POPULAR FAITH.
BY CHARLKS K. WHIPPLE.
THE number of believers in the orthodox faith is so large, and
the influence of its preachers is so weighty, that the conduc-
tors of the newspaper press (even when untrammelled by such
belief on their own part), find it advantageous not only to report the
movements of propagandism in that direction, as they do other mat-
ters of public interest, but to echo the rejoicings of the propagandists,
and use language implying that their success is a benefit to the pub-
lic, and a matter for thanksgiving to God, and for mutual congratula-
tion among men. For the same reason, they carefully avoid the ex-
posure of the deceits practised by those propagandists upon such oc-
casions. To give a plain jstatement of the verdict of reason and truth
in regard to the unscrupulous methods used to gain converts in a
" revival " would bring a pecuniary loss to the paper which should
undertake it, as direct and as great as an exposure of the false pre-
tences of the dealers in quack medicines for whom they advertise.
Thus the cheats practised in the name of religion must be exposed, if
at all, through other sources.
The public benefit of such exposure, however, is obvious. True
religion can flourish only by the downfall of the false. He who
would build securely must clear away the rubbish which pre-occupies
the spot he has chosen ; and since The Radical means to teach the
true relation of God to men, and the actual duties which men owe to
God, a clear explanation of the way in which men are now misled in
regard to those matters is in the direct line of its business and duty.
I desire, therefore, to call the attention of those who prize pure and
undefiled religion to the texture, firmness, genuineness, trustworthi-
ness of the article which is seriously offered to the public by the or-
thodox clergy as proof of the great foundation-doctrine of " revivals "
^-the doctrine of damnation. I find in the Congregatianaiist of April
6th a sermon by Rev. E. N. Kirk, D. D., entitled "The Bridgeless
Gulf,'* designed to affirm and defend that doctrine. He first assumes
it as certainly true, and then undertakes to show its reasonableness.
What reason does he give for assuming its truth ? And how does
he show its reasonableness ?
His reason for presenting it as something certainly true is found in
the following words in Luke's account of the life of Jesus : — " Between
us and you there is a great gulf fixed."
His sermon represents these words as proceeding from " the Sa-
viour," and as settling the question by the infallibility of Jesus. It
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382 The Radical.
is by the impudence of confident assumptions such as these, that re-
vivalists catch nine-tenths of their victims.
Let us inquire more carefully from whom proceed the above words
which Luke reports to lis. And first, who was Luke, when did he
write, and how did he know ? The only book of reference I have
at hand, gives me the following information : —
•* Concerning the circumstances of the life of this evangelist noth-
ing certain is known, except that he was a Jew by birth, was a con-
temporary of the apostles, and coiUd have heard accounts of the life
of Jesus from the mouths of eye-witnesses, and was for several years
the companion of the apostle Paul in his travels ; so that, in the Acts
of the Apostles^ he relates what he himself had seen and participated
in." — Encydopctdia Americana,
What caused Luke to write, and whence came his information, he
himself tells us at the opening of his narrative, with a frankness that
should put to th^ blush the impudent claimants of inspiration and
infallibility for him. I italicise portions of this passage, as of the
one above quoted.
" Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a
declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us,
even as they delivered them unto us which from the beginning were eye-
witnesses and ministers of the word — it seemed good to me aispy having
had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto
thee in order, most excellent Thepphilus, that thou migh test know
the certainty of those things wherein thou hast been instructed."
This is Luke's own account of the matter. He does not pretend
that God moved him to write, or helped him in writing. The narra-
tive which the manufacturers of our New Testament canon have
chosen to call the "Gospel according to St. Luke" is really only a
letter from a friend to his friend, written because Luke wanted to
write it, and because his knowledge of the matters concerned, derived
from eye-witnesses, was probably more accurate than any other with-
in the reacli of Theophilus. No doubt, both of them considered it
as accurate and certain as any human knowledge. The question
now is, what reason is there for uf to consider it so ?
When was it, in what year of the Christian era, that Luke wrote
down, for his friend Theophilus, this information received from eye-
witnesses? Nobody ^^iTze/j, but various conjectures are ma4e. One
guesses 30 years, another 31 years, another 38 or 39 yearsj^ after the
death of Jesus. So, on the most favorable of these suppositions, it
was more than 30 years after the events in question when Luke wrote
down what he remembered of the statements made to him in some
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The Foundation of the Popular Faith. '383
, . r
preceding portion of those 30 years, by eye-witnesses, according to
the best of their memory and belief.
We are now in a position to judge whether Dr. Kirk's foundation
is laid on a rock or on the sand. The statement which he has taken
for his text, and which he would have us accept as an infallible dic-
tum respecting the arrangements of the ; next stage of human exist-
ence — and which he declares to rest on the authority of " the Savioiu" "
— is really only Luke's recollection of some unknown j)erson's recol-
lection of what Jesus (in a parable) represen^d as spoken by the
spirit of Abraham ! Spiritualism is of older date than most people
suppose 1 Read, who will, the account in I^uke's 1 6th chapter, and
then judge whether we are to receive, on the authority of the spirit
of Abraham, statements derogatory to the character of the true God,
the Heavenly Father I
Taking into consideration the circumsta^ices of uncertainty above
referred to, no one has a right confidently to impute to Jesus the false
doctrine set forth in Luke's narrative. He left no writings whatever ;
his own disciples frequently misinterpreted him and more frequently
failed to understand him ; and in the course of thirty years their re-
membrance not only suffered in the ordinary way from lapse of
time, but became diluted and alloy^ with much traditionary rumor,
which of course could not be distinguished by Luke, the reporter, from
the things which his informant had actually seen and heard. We
have a right, therefore, to decline imputing this ep;or to Jesus, though
if he, and all the apostles,^ and all other human beings, had joined
the spirit of Abraham in declaring it, this should not for a moment
incline us to accept a doctrine derogatory to the true God, the Heav-
enly Father. To err is human, and there have been many erroneous
notions respecting His character. Be it ours to believe Him not
only good but best, and to reject, without hesitation, all evil surmis-
ings concerning Him. j
Is it worth while to give here Dr.. Kirk's notions respecting the
rtasonablmess of eternal damnation ? He finds it reasonable " by the
action of two principles which pervade the works of God ; the princi-
ples of adaptation and justice." Of the former he says, —
'' By adaptation we mean the principle that; t)iQ Creator puts every
being in the place for which its nature fits it ... . Here, godly and
ungodly, regenerate and unregenerate> ar«.to mingle and dwell to-
gether ; but not there ; because the mixture is adapted to probation^ not
to retribution,^^ — Do n't you see ? ;
Of the latter, namely, " pure justice, or a supreme reference to the
universal interests of God's empire," he says —
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384 The Radical.
** Men who have rejected God's help must help themselves, if they
can. Men who have refused to enter heaven in God's way, must find
destruction in their own way. Men who have neglected preparing
themselves for heaven, must expect to find themselves unprepared
for heaven. We separate men from our imperfect society by stone
walls, and iron chains, if need be. Why may not God act on the
same principle ? " — Do n't you see ?
It is by dogmatism like that here quoted — the assumptions of
Parson Kirk, and Parson Blagden, and Parson South-side Adams. —
that men and women are led to subject themselves to the revival of
superstition which has lately been going on in Boston. When these
Reverend gentlemen venture at all upon the ground of reason in this
matter, (which, to do them justice, is very seldom*,) this is the best
they have to give I These are the argwnmts by which they try to per-
suade men that the Heavenly Father resembles the false deities pic-
tured by Islamism, Hindooism and Mormonism, in a relentless exer-
cise ^i revenge throughout eternity. The god they worship prefers
to roast so many sinners forever and ever, as on the whole more satis-
factory than continuing to use such means as he uses in this world
for their reformation !
THE BIRD'S SONG.
I HEARD the song of a forest bird,
Sweet was the note in my grateful ear,
It came like the tone of a friendly word,
It was finished, and gentle, and clear,
Yet the singer I saw not, though near.
I hear the bird's song wherever I go,
For it echoes my inward desire ;
But the minstrel I deem does not venture below
The far clouds, — his world is a higher,
His altar is lit by a purer, fire.
Sing on, thou sweet anthem, — to me,
Though viewless, thou seemest a tone
That one day shall come in fiill melody,
And die singer be near, and my own,
Even if now I wander alone.
(/hnw Tki Dial.)
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A LETTER TO THE REVEREND EDMUND H. SEARS.
Rev. Mr. Sears : —
Sir : — Some months ago I criticised, perhaps in a tone somewhat too
brusque^ your Cambridge Address on << Modern Naturalism as a Means of
Religious Knowledge." My attention has recently been called to a note in
the " Monthly Religious Magazine," wherein this critique and myself are
disposed of without any Chinese excess of ceremony. You reproach me
with " audacious falsification " and other offences. The charge in this par-
ticular shape I cannot, of course, consider. As conveying any personal
imputation, your words have not found me, and I shall not go out of my way
to find them. Your accusation will therefore to my mind mean simply this,
— that I have misapprehended, and consequently misstated, your position.
And this must indeed be so, since 3rou disclaim the opinionl^which I had
attributed to you. Nothing would induce me to accuse you of falsification,
whether audacious* or other^yise; and accordingly your disclaimer must
pass unchallenged.
But whether this apprehension was due to my proper fault or to your
own ; whether I was dull, or you confused ; were another question. As a
question between us two, a question of my accuracy, or of your clearness,
it would merit, at best, no more than a private discussion, — nor even that
unless one had more leisure than I can profess to command. But ques-
tions of general truth are involved. In these the public is interested, and,
I hope, feels itself to be so. It may be useful therefore to look again over
the ground of controversy, discover with precision what is the point of dis-
pute, and learn how much has been contributed towards its final settlement
There is somewhat in " the spirit of the age," which you impugn. What
is it? What is that assumption which men now-a-days are disposed to
make, but which you esteem unfounded and perilous ? It is that Nature
furnishes a sufficient means of religious knowledge. Nature here is to be
taken in the broadest sense, including, on the one hand, the material uni-
verse in its whole relation and significance to man, and, on the other hand,
man's entire inward being as expressed in his spiritual consciousness. The
school of Naturalists in religion think that in the being of man immediately,
and to his being, through the medium of the external world, report is made
of all the truth which it concerns him to know or believe. This opinion
you apparently repugn. (I say apparently^ because a simple and straight-
forward interpretation of your Address has once got me into trouble, and I
fear again to provoke a good man to the use of unbecoming words, — which
I should the more regret, seeing he has so large a command of words that
are extremely becoming. To avoid this, therefore, and also to avoid the
continual use of qualifying terms, I beg you to observe that in all represen-
tations here made of the positions taken in your Address, I simply state
what appears to me, and will listen willingly should you state that your
meaning was different) .
3
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386 The Radical.
This doctrine of the Naturalists, then, you resist It claims for man's
being, you say, powers which that docs not possess. Man's native abilities
suffice, in your opinion, for furnishing valid and useful criticism, but can go
no farther ; positive belief^ pure spiritual truth, they are imable to supply.
Their legitimate action is thus purely negative ; they pull down what de-
serves to be pulled ; they can dear away rubbish ; but true spiritual ardii-
tf cture is beyond their scope.
Here, then, is the broad question that opens between us. Does man's
being possess, or does it want, the competency which Naturalism claims for
it ? It is not Kant, it is not a metaphysic, it is not any man's mode of tx^
plaining the way in which the being of man acts, that here concerns us ;
our afiair is with the soul itself Every attempt at metaphysical explana-
tion, which has been made in the interest of Naturalism, may be the sheerest
failure, and yet its claim be just You believe in supernatundism, I suppose.
Are you wilHkg that I • should measure its truth and sufficiency by that of
its metaphysic, if it has any P Will you have the goodness to name that
metaphysician with whom you will adventure your cause ? I think you wiU
decline to do so; and you will do rightly. Accordingly what is true of
laan's being, what are its native abilities, or disabilities, coonot be deter-
mined by examining Kant, unless you can show that it is correctly repre-
sented on his pages. If he rightly describes man's nature, then it may be
convicted of such incompetence as his premises imply. If he is in error, '
then his metaphysic has no relevance to the question of fact in man's spirit
Your use of Kant I will consider hereafter. It is sufficient here to discrimi-
nate clearly between truth of man's being, on the one hand, and any suc-
cess or want of success in metaphysical exposition on the other.
We recur, then, to the real question. Do the grand eternal relations, in
which man's being is placed, report themselves in his being, and by its
proper force ? Or, can a knowledge of them only be forced upon him by
sheer imposition from without ? Does his cognizance of spiritual truth
testif) to the competence of his soul, or only to its impotence ? Supposing
divine truth revealed, as I fully believe, is it revealed by man's inward
activity, or by his passivity ? by his powers, or by their suspension ? by aa
«;rpression of his spirit, or by its repression ? Is it a revelation made, first
of all, in the spiritual constitution of humanity, then in the riper representa-
tives of humanity coming clearly to light as consciousness, then at last
issumg in speech ; or is it made, not vitally, but only verbally, not in man's
being, but only to his ear ? Is it coeval and coequal with existence, or is
it local and scenic ? Is religion bom, or is it only instituted ? Is Chris-
tianity life, or a mechanism ? vital, or a system of blocks and pulleys ? In
fine, is religion with all that appertains to it, a fact and force of the human
soul, without which it would not be a human soul at all ; or is it an addition
to his being; designed to exact from it operations, the idea of which lies not
in itself.
Such, substantially, I take to be the matter in controversy — J am sxve
that the position of the Naturalists is here fairly, wbetlier or not adequately,
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Letter t6 Mr. Sears. 387
suggested ; but I am not sure thatt you will confess that of their opponents
to be hinted at with eqttal fairness. However, nothing shall be forced upon
you. I have no wish to write out a creed for you, and sign it as ygur proxy.
The only fact which concerns me here is that the position of the Naturalists
is one which you impugn. I will therefore consider only your argument
against it, without demanding of you any definite substitute. Man's being,
you maintain, has no such wholeness, no such productive force ; its rela-
tion to God is not thus radical. By the proper force of his being, — so
your . address says, if I read it rightly, — he cannot bring forth the divine
word, but can only winnow and sift it when brought to him. Is not this
what you say, — that divine truth is not an expression of man's spiritual
being ? That it is brought to him firom without ? That his intelligence
may act upon it so far as to separate fi*om Gknl's word whatever of man's
word had got mingled with it ? And that having done so, it must recog-
nize the residue as above itself, and submit to it accordingly ? If not so,
you will find it hard, I think, to discriminate your position from that of the
Naturalists.
Consistently with this point of view, you first gave science and " the sen-
suous reason " credit for much useflil criticism of the old creeds ; and then,
turning your speculum, showed it as no less impotent for the legitimation
of positive belief than potent for negative work. Here I differ fi-om you
little, if at all. It is true that the outward world may, by its impression
upon man's spiritual sensibilities, incite his soul to the generation of belief.
History indeed is full of this ; and all which has been called " Nature-wor-
ship " results from that impression. All the universe is a symbol ; and at
a certain period in the life of humanity, when man has attained to some
liberation from his physical necessities, and also to a high delicacy of feel--
ing, but while as yet his own past has not so accumulated upon him as to
preoccupy his mind, he feels with peculiar force the significance of the
world as s3nnbol ; so that all its gr|ind features awaken in him irresistibly
the sacred impulse to adore. In our age the best minds are seeking, and
with much success, to restore this openness of spirit, this fine impressibility,
this fructifying sympathy with visible Nature. Hence the current passion
for landscape painting ; hence a poet sings :
" For man in the bash ^th God may meet"
hence Wordsworth, Ruskin, Thoreau. This belongs to that Naturalistic
spirit which jrou condemn : and this alone rescues it from your reproach of
wanting all positive and generic force. But science, as now commonly de- .
fined, is simply a criticism of the visible world ; and cannot deliver itself
from the limitations of mere criticism. It aims only to show the order of
relation between phenomena ; and of course cannot reach the Absolute.
There is, indeed, a higher road on which* the great Swedraboi^ sought ta
journey. He would show the spiritual signyUance of phenomena, both ia
themselves and in their mutual relations. But here science becomes j^il-
osophy ; that is, it seeks to explain the visible worlds not by 'itself alone^
but by the soul^ the invisible world. Science at present refuses to subordi-
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388 The Radical.
nate itself in this way ; and accordingly Dr. Hedge's accusation against it,
that it is atheistic, which is also your own accusation, has force.
So far, and with these eiq)lanations, I go with you. So Eu* also you were
laboring at your declared task, that of exposing the inadequacy of Natural-
ism as a means of religious knowledge. So far, again, your observations
seemed to me important as criticism ; for there are undoubtedly those who
think that the world may be explained merely by itself, and yet go beyond
itself^ and arrive at God. This is partial Naturalism ; and he who cen-
sures it intelligently, has in me a sincere well-wisher.
You have shown, then, that the mind cannot attain to genuine religious
conviction while acting in a certain way, that is, while seeking only to find
the order of relation between phenomena. And why ? Because this is to
assume phenomena in their sum total, as independent and absolute. It is
to assume that the whole meaning of the visiSle world lies in itself^ not in
the soul. How then should it contain truth for the soul ? If the king ab-
dicate, he is at once a subject, and will certainly not find his lojralty by any
peering about into dark comers. If the soul abdicate, it as certainly will
not, by any mere inspection of the visible world, discover the sovereignty
which it has cast away. Now this is what science does, when it seeks to
find truth of the soul in the outward world, while at the same time the soul
forswears its own sovereignty, and refuses to bring forth from itself aught,
to which that world might confess its subordination. It wishes to bring
forth out of the world something other than itself by considering it only in
itself. It would have the soul find itself above the world by standing on a
level with it Of course, a solecism is involved in any such attempt. You
do well to expose it You do well to show that the mind acting in a certain
way is indeed impotent to bring forth religious knowledge.
Up to this point I follow you with ease and with approbation. But now
we come to somewhat of a different cast, — somewhat which promotes your
genei'al argument, if understood in one way, and runs exactly counter to it,
if understood in another way. I understood you, on reading your Address,
to be here continuing your general line of reasoning, and interpreted your
special statements accordingly ; but now learn that in so interpreting you,
I was doing you great wrong. Let us see what your general purpose was,
and what your statements at this point must mean, — but, as you declare,
did not'mean, — if they were to serve that purpose.
Were you not seeking to show that the spirit of man is not competent by
its proper force to arrive at religious knowledge ? that it is dependent on
external and supernatural success ? I took this to be your aim. Now
suppose your whole argument read in the light of this purpose, how would
it run ? You first show the inability of '* the sensuous reason,'^ or as I
should say, of the mind assuming a certain attitude and method to attain
spiritual belief. But now the question comes, may not man's natural intel-
ligence prosper better by acting in another way, yet still employ only its
natural resource ? Do you say Yes ? Then your argument stops short I
cannot lift the weight with my foot, but can lift it with my hands ? The
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Letter to Mr. Sears. 389
simple feet then is, I can lift it. I cannot see the divine light with the eye
of " sensuous reason," but can see it with the eye of " speculative rea-
son ? " The simple feet is, then, I can see it with my natural eye. Shall
we stop here, then ?
You did not stop here. You pushed on, either leaving your argument
behmd, or carrying it with you. You seemed to attack the speculative rea-
son also ; you seemed to say that this also is unable to attain religious
knowledge ; you seemed to assert that man's intelligence in this department
is limited to the circle of phenomena. And you justified yourself by refer-
ring to Kant Do you agree with him ? Very well : then your argument
goes forwaird. Do you not agree with him ? Are you seeking to refute
him on this point ? Would you show that man's natural intelligence has
more power than he attributes to it ? Then your argument has gone to the
right about You are vindicating Naturalism against a class of Naturalists,
who, in your view, do man's nature an injustice. But your note informs
me that you do not argue with Kant, that your aim was to refute him. Very
good : what, now, shall I care for Kant, having your alliance ? He aspersed
man's intelligence. The soul is not limited in feet as on his pages. The
speculative reason, for aught you forbid me to think, may fly, may soar,
may scale the skies, may look on the blessed fece of Truth herself, may, —
but I must moderate myself; my happiness was carrying me away.
You pass on to consider " the moral reason." You say that if the spec-
ulative reason had been limited, as Kant pretends, then you could not know
but the moral reason might be in as bad a case. Here again I mistook
you. I thought you carrying on the argument against Naturalism, that is,
alleging real limitations in man's nature. But, bless me ! you were all the
while doing quite the contrary. You were showing that our estimation of
man's native power to discern absolute truth would be imperilled if Kant
had been correct You were warning Naturalism, out of your love to it, to
quit a metaphysic wWch endangers its cause. But Kant is not correct
You do not agree with him. Enough : the moral reason is safe. And what
a happy escape !
And now we come to your " dilemma for the Kantians." Here again you
were too deep for me. You said that if the moral reason is phenomenal,
we fall inevitably into atheism ; while if it be noumenal, God is imprisoned
within the limits of man's individuality. I profess I thought you meant it
must be one of the two, either phenomenal or noumenaL But how easy it
is for a wise man to confound one of the simple ! You meant nothing of
the kind ; you avow it Like Tell, you kept an arrow under your cloak.
Either phenomenon and noumenon are mere words, signifying nothing ; or
else there is a third somewhat which is neither phenomenal nor noumenal ;
and the moral reason is that But, at any rate, it is authentic ? The moral
reason does make authentic report of God's truth and law ? Ah well, that
is enough for a simpJe man like myself. I can enjoy the smell of a sweet
flower without knowing its botanical name. Had I never heard the word
gravitation^ I should have the same comfortable assurance of sticking fast
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390 The Radici^K
to the edrth, and should be no more ashaoied of weighing one hundred aod
thirty-five pounds than I am now. And so in this case I do not care « jot
what sort of ominal the moral reason is, provided only I can ieel sure that
it holds me fast to immortal truth.
The upshot, then, of your against (or for) Modem Naturalism is this :
The sensuous reason is conversant only with phenomenal truth ; the spec-
ulative and moral reason would be as badly o% or worse, were Kant's ex-
plications correct But these are not correct ; so man's natural intelli-
gence, in two distinct forms of it, is (presumably) conversant with spiritual
and everlasting truth. And with this I am simple enough to be cooteaty
and yet hold myself a Naturalist
But though no strict follower of Kant, I have a word further to say upoa
your " dilemma for the Kantians." Is it true that if God were presented
by the moral consciousness, he would be included within the limits of man's
individuality ? I am loath to part company with you, having been com-
forted so much by your alliance ; but I am here compelled to act against
my inclination ;'for yoiur notion on this matter seems to me quite indefea-
sible. It is not at all true that all which is presented in consciousness is
identified with one's individual sense. I am conscious of the Good ; but I
do not necessarily appropriate it ; on the contrary, I may in the same mo-
ment reproach myself as eviL Thus I may in the same moment be con-
scious of the Good, and be conscious that I am not good. Accordingly,
the identification with self of all which we are conscious o^ so £»* fix>m
being necessary, as you allege, is shown, by our most familiar experience,
to be anything but necessary. On the contrary, the moral conscioifsness
and the purely individual consciousness, are always polarized as opposites,
like infinite and finite ; and they may be, and often are, in a state of strict
antagonism to each other.
In truth, some clearing up of this word consciousness is very desirable ;
and since our hand is in, why not try it on this ma|:ter ? I distinguish in
consciousness two poles, one of which represents the universal and the
other the merely individual. The former I call, by preference, the spiritual
consciousness ; but let us here name it morale since that term has served
us hitherto. Somewhat in me, in you, in every man, affirms the good.
This affirmation is a pure spiritual postulate, an absolute assumption made
by the souL So intimate is it with our spiritual being, that we should have
no spiritual being without it ; where the good is not postulated, a human
soul does not exist It is in the saint, it is in the villain, it is of the very
essence of humanity. Now this self-affirmation of the good made in man's
soul, and inseparable from the soul, is consciousness in the purest sense of
the word. But to this idea of the good belongs, as essential to it, the
notion of it as a universal measure, the notion of its rightful sovereignty,
not over him alone who is conscious of it, but over all the world. It is
. conceived of as universally applicable by the very fact of being conceived
of at alL When my little boy was four or five years old, his first question
concerning any man, who happened to be mentioned with distinction, was
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Letter to Mr. Sears. 391
invariably, " Is he a good man ? " Here was that sense of a universal
Bieasure ; here was an idea of his own being, which he was sure must apply
equally to every human being whatsoever.
The idea of the good, accordingly, is that of absolute and universal obli-
gation. It is universal only by its nature as an ideaj I do not, of cotn^e,
say that it is exclusive as 2i force. For on the other hand is the particular
oonsciousnes9, the sense of a separate self^ with its cortige of appetites,
passions, pleasures and pains, which stands always in polaric opposition-
with that, and often breaks into sheer revolt, asserting temperamental and
particular force against ideal authority. Now to this the idea of universal*
ity and absoluteness does not belong. I am rationally persuaded, indeed^
that every other man has his sense of self ; but it is strictly his^ not mine;
the two facts are not only separate, but their very idea is that of separation.
My self-consciousness separates me from others, makes xa^ ^. particular
being ; this is its precise function. But the good is not yours or mine ; it
is simple, indivisible, universal, one and the same, one with itself, every-
where. It is not universal by mere extension, like force ; it is universal by
its nature and essence ; it can be conceived of only as universal.
Here, then, is the spiritual consciousness on the one hand, postt^ating
that which man may be^ but can never appropriate ; on the other hand is
self-consciousness, which is appropriation, and nothing else — man's /r^
priuniy Swedenborg called it. You confound the two, if I may say so with-
out rudeness. You assume that whatever is presented by the greater must
needs be seized upon by the less — must be, as it were, pocketed by man's
proprium. Your " dilemma for the Kantians " is a dilemma only by force
of this assumption. A dilemma should have two horns, I am told. Yours
had two, which looked very formidable ; but one of them was made of wet
paper. You amuse yourself with frightening us simple folk. In Africa,
my boy tells me, they catch elephants by building around them a fence so
dight that a goat could butt it down ; but the elephant, foolish giant, goes
around looking for an opening, and dies at last of a mere notion that he
cannot get out I fear that, if a division were made between the sheep and
the goats, you would assign me a place among the latter ; not presuming to
dispute sentence, therefore, but meekly submitting to it, I have thought
that it would be in character to push at this straw fence, with which you'
have sought to enclose the radical elephant
Let us resume :
1. Either you sought to show that man cannot, by the proper force of his
beihg, arrive at religious knowledge, or else you fail to take ground against
Naturalism. But your purpose is to take ground against it
2. You take but one step in your argument against it, and oppose only a
very partial /orm of Naturalism, unless you assume that " speculative rea-
son " is limited in fact, as on Kant's pages. But you now declare that your
purpose was to assume and prove the exact contrary.
3. You make out your case against Kant — in respect, that is, to " the
moral reason" — by assuming that whatsoever is postulated by the moral
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392 The Radical.
consciousness must be seized upon as proprium by man's particular self^
and so hedged in within limits purely individual But this Involves the
singular notion that what can be conceived of only as universal, becomes
particular and private by being so conceived of — that what consciousness
presents as, in its very nature, inappropriable by the individual sel^ is ap-
propriated by the act of its affirmation as inappropriable.
A word as to the alleged " fiatuity " of thinking that one can be conscioos
of immortality. This is ** nonsense," you say, because one " can be con-
scious only of what is, not of what will be." That sounds cogent ; but you
overlook the obvious fact that the future may be assured by the present,
what will be by what is. Death belongs strictly to the realm of time and
^e senses. Now suppose one conscious that as to his inmost real bein^^
he is above that realm ; he would then be conscious of immortality. Per-
haps no one has this consciousness ; but it is certainly a supposable case,
and you were hasty in affirming the contrary.
In the foot note which you ** hesitated " to devote to me, there is one
clause which merits more consideration than I am disposed to bestow cm
most of your metaphysical criticism. '* When he accepted the notion that
phinomena cannot authenticate naume$ia^^ you say, '* his only alternative
was Pantheism or Atheism." The words which I have italicized strike me
as really penetrating. They raise the real question concerning the Kantian
metaphysic, though the " alternative " is, in my judgment, factitious. And
had you been able to read my criticism with a more patient and willing at-
tention, you would have seen that I am here rather with you than against
you. I took pains to say that, though the moral reason were representa-
tive (or phenomenal), it would not necessarily misrepresent absolute or
aoumenal truth. This, of course, was but another way of saying that phe-
momena may authenticate noumena. But in your Address, the contrary
was assumed. You took it for granted that whatever is representative in
the mind represents only itself, and cannot be known as representing God.
If the moral reason is phenomenal, you said, and still say, the result is
atheism. Why ? Because you assume that phenomena cannot authenti-
cate noumena. If they can do so, your argimient falls to the ground.
Permit me to say, in conclusion, that it is yourself rather than the age
which seems to me *' switched off upon a side track." An age, as to its
total movement, can be wrong only if its thought is becoming narrower, or
ks moral spirit more feeble. Health, vigor and activity are progress.
Decay alone is retrogression. Progress, however, is very complicated, and
an age which is making a step in advance must be read in a large way to
be understood. He that insists upon studying it with a strict dogmatic ejre
wiU seldom be able to interpret it with even approximate justice ; for der-
matic unity does not belong to a state of movement, but to one of arrest
It indicates that a given movement has completed itself, having done for
mankind what it could do ; and whenever progress is resumed, one of its
first indications will be disruption and diversity of opinion, along with a
certain community of spirit Such is eminently the case in our day. There
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Letter to Mr. Sears. 393
is a great common movement of mlndy in which every man more or less
participates ; but even among those who commit themselves to it most
frankly, it is a thing of many degrees, and includes dogmatic opposites of
the most irreconcilable description.
Let me illustrate this by an instance near at hand. An able writer in a
recent number of the Christian Examiner, refers to Dr. Hedge's alterna-
tive, "The Bible or the Mathematics," and declares, with a frankness
which does him infinite credit, that as between the two, considered as
measures of beliefi he elects the mathematics — using the term " mathe-
matics " as representative of science, and the scientific mode of thought in
general. This is Naturalism ; yet I, equally moved by the modem spirit,
differ from him here in ioto; and the difference involves all that is most
fundamental in my system of thought Dr. Hedge's alternative, taken lit-
erally— it is hardly necessary to say — I do not accept ; and I think his
statement less guarded than might be expected from so accomplished a
thinker. Yet if the alternative be made representative on both sides, if the
question be between th< class of forces represented by the Bible and the
class of forces represented by the mathematics, | not only choose the
former, but should contradict everything in my habitual mode of thought,
by doing otherwise. Nevertheless, I am as little of a bibliolater as any
man in America. But in my view, belief, like gravitation, is legitimated
only by itself. Critical, or scientific, inspection comes after the fact, apd
can do no more than recognize it as existing. Those books, therefore,
which represent Belief in its direct force, speaking out of its own heart and
from it^ own necessity, are nearer to the fact than science possibly can be.
They stand at one remove from it ; science is twice removed. They speak
Belief itself ; science speaks about it Science must always stand at two
removes from the fact which it considers. Here is Gravitation ; next, the
^ing apple which directly attests it ; next, Newton beholding its fall and
inquiring what makes it fall. So with Belief ; first, the believing soul ;
next, the word or deed that directly attests its divine attractions ; lastly,
science, hearing, seeing and reasoning. He, therefore, who would come
nearer to Belief than Bibles bring him, must do what they did who wrote
the Bibles — believe, not primarily by sympathy with the prophets, but
primarily by the immediate energy and affirmation of his spirit
I know of but one assumption that is common to all degrees of Natural-
ism, namely, the autonomy of the human spirit. It assumes that the spirit
of n^n is entitled to determine what man should think and believe : in
other words, that Faith is a native product, not an importation.
David A. Wasson.
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ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAUIUI.
Trust. — An old proverb runs, Trust the man who hath his heart in his
hands. This is well, but better, or of twin-excellence, is the latter render-
ing, Trust the man who hath his heart in his mouth. Yes, trust both. You
can trust such people for what they seem. They are free from deceptioo.
They are not loaded down with concealments. They live out such life as
is in them — " walking honestly in the day." It may not be of the highest
or best quality, but this spontaneous flow of it, such as it is, is of greater
worth to them and to the world, than all the pretention and outward
sanctity they could possibly manufacture and exhibit, though they should
live to count as many years as did Methusalah. It is genuine. Be thank-
ful for so much. There is no sham about it It is not base mettle. Or, if
It is, it does not glory in being gold without alloy, and so lie against the«
Holy Ghost Its " improprieties " may possibly shock you, — ^but no mat-
ter. We thrive by these shocks. We need to be jostled now and then, or
we should alt fall asleep, and die oi qmx proprieties and sanctities.
We must learn to look upon each other from a new stand-point We
must come to regard the question of growth ; and know that we are not to
be crowned nor condenmed upon any one individual act, nor upon a great
number of such acts, nor ever wholly condemned at all, I venture.
We are none of us paragons of excellence. But we are all growings
moving in that direction — if the life we are daily expressing is the real life
centred in the heart, and not a counterfeit of some other life. That b our
question — real or counterfeit ! Trust the Real as far as it goes. By your
trust, it will go farther and thrive better.
The Portrait. — Riley painted a portrait of Charles n. The King;
looking at the picture^ exclaimed, " Is this like me ? Then, odds fish, I
am an ugly fellow." How many portraits turn out that way. Few people
believe they get fiill justice done them by the artist, or even by the photo-
grapher. And I suspect there b some good reason for this unbelief that is
in them. If Burns was justified in writing his famous lines,
« o wad.some power, the giftie gie ua^
To see ourselves as others see us,"
it does not by any means follow that we should always see ourselves as we
really are, by seeing ourselves as other's see us.
Undoubtedly
" It wad frae monie a blunder firee us,
And foolish notion."
to know the "judgment" even of the gpssifpers. But no person with wit
enough to direct his own course, can allow himself to be much elated, or
much cast down, by the portrait " others " may sketch of him. There is no
person in the world who has so excellent an opportunity to judge himself
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Enlightenments. 395
• «
aright, as he himself has. He alone holds the key to the inmost temple
of himself. Locked up there, hid from the gaze of the world, he carries his
sacred secret Thert h^ngs Ais portratt That is himself^ and not what
"others " paint The artist is blind who paints not that; who takes the
masquerade in which he appears for himself. The masque is ugly ; if that
is like him, why then, " odds fish," he must say, " I am an ugly fellow."
But all people feel — know — that in reality they are not so ugly. They •
may confess all that you may say of them, and agree that every lint drawn
is correct, and every color, and light, and shade, touched and blended with
utmost skill, yet the portrait, they will insist, is false and ugly. " f/thzt is
like me," each 4cing will say, &c. ; meaning to say, " I do not believe it is."
Now I do but utter my own experience. The garb I wear to-day is not
myself; and he who sees that, and that only, paints only a poor imperfect
mood or condition of my growth, and gets no real life-like portrait which I
can or will recognize. It is ugly, and it is not me. It is not all vimity,
therefore, which leads people to be dissatisfied with the artist's success. It
is the pride of a conscious birthright and ownership of a nobility-of-look*
which he does not discover. He arrests you at the point of ugliness and
imperfection, and swears he has caught you on his canvas, or in his story.
But he is mistaken, and thou hast nought to do with his swearing. Keep
thou on in the way of thy work, or if thou hast none, quickly get some^and
be at it ; and by and by sit again for thy fool-artist, and he will paint another *
and better picture this time, and swear once more ; but do thou say, " Ugly
still," and to thy work again, and work away. At last it shall come to pass
that thou wilt go no more to the artist ; nor care even if there be any.
Paint thine own portrait as God alone swears unto thee it is and shall be ;
and be patient in thy work, not heeding too much the world's complaint of
thee, and thou shalt prosper well in thy day, which shall be forever and
forever!
Sentences from Epictitus. — " It is a mark of want of intellect, to
spend much time in things relating to the body ; as to be immoderate in
exercises, in ea^ng and drinking, and in the discharge df other animal
functions. These things should be done incidentally, and our main strength
applied to our reason."
" Demand not that events should happen as you wish ; but wish them to
happen as they do happen, and you will go on well.*"
** Men are not disturbed by things, but by the views they take of thiagji.
Thus death is nothing terrible, else it would have appeared so to Socrates.
But the terror consists in our notion of death, that it is terrible. Whea^
therefore, we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved, let us never impute it
to others, but to our own views. It is the action of an uninstmcted person
to reproach others for his own misfortunes ; of one entering upon instruc-
tion to' reproach himself; and of one perfectly instructed* to reproach
neither others nor himself."
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BOOK NOTICES.
EccE Homo. A Survey of the Life and Work of Jesus Christ Bostcm :
Roberts Brothers. 1866. pp. iv. 355.
The value of this book consists in the numerous marks of delicate per-
ception of the human character and motives of Christ shown by the author.
In this respect the book is a welcome contribution to the literature of biog-
raphies of Christ, and surpasses many of them in its frank and clear state-
ments of his humanity. Nothing could be better told, with a higher imagi-
native sense of the feelings that lie between the texts, than the story of
2^ccheus, the motives of Christ in the scene with the Scribes and the adul-
terous woman, and in his intercourse with the Pharisees. Nobody can
find fault with such chapters as " The Christian a Law to himself," " The
Enthusiasm of Humanity," and " The Law of Mercy." The high moral
earnestness of the volume is a great refreshment to a reader of theological
treatises. Renan strives to set forth the humanity of Christ, but he fails to
inflame us with this moral faith, and we are not impressed with its absolute
and immutable character. " Ecce Homo " is the work of a deeply religious
and pure mind, striving to set forth all that is positive and permanent, all
that is lovely and worthy of reverence, in the character of Christ, all that
keeps it still the unsurpassed moral ideal of mankind.
• But it is written, after all, from the point of view of supematuralism.
Miracles are not only implied, but put into a kind of working connection
with the human element of the narrative, and made to illustrate its superiority.
The Lord's Supper and Baptism are insisted on, as essential symbolical
actions of a Christian Church or society. To all of which we have simply
to say, that the success of the Life on all the human points that are most
vital and interesting to us, demonstrates the absurdity and superfluity of its
supernatural leanings. The book has not one particle of criticism : it re-
verts completely to the old traditional style of handling the New Testament,
just as if the Gospels had never been observed and sifted : one book is as
authentic as another : St John's Gospel is received with the old childlike
simplicity. It is long since we have seen such a thorough-paced specimen
of ignoring. We value highly this trait of the book, because it shows better
than any other treatment could do, how utterly independent the positive ele-
ments of Christ's Life are of the supernatural traditions. The more old-
fiuhioned the assumptions are, the more valuable appear the concessions
to Christ's pure humanity which have been extorted from the sincere and
manly writer. And we are in debt to him for many a striking page. j. w.
The Living Present and the Dead Past : or God made manifest and
useful in living men and women as he was in Jesus. By Henry C.
Wright. 1865. Bela Marsh.
This pamphlet of 120 pages is written In a plain style, and pervaded by
a sincere and earnest feeling. The bluntness of its expressions will offend
only those who love forms and creeds better than moral and spiritual truth.
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Book Notices. 397
But whoever is disposed to see God in the soul and in the fortunes of his
brother, and the manifestation of divine love in the presence of all men and
women, will find in these pages a sweet flavor. It is that of a gentle, pure,
unselfish, fraternal heart It reminds us frequently of some of the utter-
ances of the Quakers and Mystics. Indeed, Mr. Wright, notwithstanding
his apparent want of veneration, and a self-reliance that repudiates all the
so-called religious feelings, is a true Mystic : but one who aspires in the
new air of America, and whose longing is for the plain facts of humanity
and justice.
He says : " in proportion as we associate God, or the object of our su-
preme worship, with men and women, shall we reverence theni. If we see
in them our God, personified and made manifest, we shall feel for them the
same loving, tender and holy reverence which we feel for the good and
gracious Father and Mother, God."
He does not believe that man, by any amount of yearning, groping, and
interior exaltation, can find out God ; that He is to be recognized in the
{sLCt3 of the world, and approached through the holy relations of life, and
worshipped by the reformation of all unholy persons and institutions. This
is a very good gospel for the present America. And Mr. Wright believes
that the Present is the Incarnation of the Jesus whom we need, the mani-
festation of God, made flesh in man and society.
" A far-ofi", dead Judas cannot tempt to treachery like an ever present,
living Judas ; nor can a Jesus in the far-distant Dead Past, allure to deeds
of love and tenderness, and of lofty daring and heroism, as could a Jesus in
the Living Present, ever in our presence, and ever in personal and intimate
relations with us." Mr. Wright would thus substitute the Jesus who is to-
day crucified, who is to-day sublime in men and women, who is the imme-
diate redeemer of America through her own best truths and spirits, for the
ideal Jesus towards whom the invisible raptures of the old Mystics used to
exhale. He finds religion in fertile co-operation with each other, and not in
fruitless private exaltations.
He puts things very bluntly and nakedly, but they are for the most part
true: and America has sufiered enough from untrue things said finely.
Especially in tiie province of religion we ought to welcome a return from
glittering generalities, from the sentimentalism of the pulpit, fix>m the pol-
ished falsehoods of all the creeds, to the sobriety of righteousness, j. w.
Snow-Bound. A Winter Idyl. By John Greenleaf Whittier.
Boston : Ticknor and Fields. 1866. pp. 52.
These pages are not " Flemish pictures of old days," but genuine
American, such as Judd in his " Margaret " taught us to long for, and to
expect in our future literature. They have the minuteness, but not the
commonness of Flemish pictures : for every detail has become touched with
the after-thoughts of the poet's memory. The boy's chores, the oxen in the
stalls, the apples sputtering between the straddling andirons, the " white-
washed wall and sagging beam," uncle's pipe, wood-fires, snow-drifts, all
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the inventXNry of tlic house or oot-door life, receives a charming color. The
regret for the vanished days is not too keen : all is melodious and gentle.
The grief for the dearly-beloved sister has become chastened as though a
long life had done its work upon that also. The poef s £uth supplies the
perspective which an ordinary temperament owes to time.
How many perfect lines this poem contains ! It is useless, however, to
give specimens of this genuine New England production. All readers will
desire to possess this ripe and simple offspring of the genius which we love
and reverence. May the years deal gently with that beautiful head beneath
whose arch still meditate for our behoof sincere, childlike, noble and pene-
trating thoughts. May that faithful inner Kfe still amass new pages to be-
queath to an admiring country, to quicken love of truth, sense of duty,
moral power, and every gracious feeling. j. w.
Diary: i863-'64-*6s. By Adam Gurowskt. Washington, D. C:
W. A. and O. H. Morrison. 1866. Boston : Lee and Shepard.
The author of this Diary is an intelligent Polish gentleman, who, during
the progress of the rebellion put down from day to day most interestifig
bits of commentary on men and things^ and movements, both political and
military. He says, in his preface, " The two former volumes contain the
same proportions of blame and praise as prevail in this volume." This
Volume opens with October 1863, and closes with November 1865. Here
is the freest criticism, which may or may not have found itself justified ; but
rare indeed is it to find in one book so many shrewd sayings, so many wise
reflections. The book, moreover, is a history. What it does not report, it
suggests, and calls up in one's own memory. -The Great Rebellion seems
almost to lie in the mind as a dream, so completely has all that daily, hourly,
weary watching of the fortunes of war been displaced by one short year's
discussion of gravest topics, for since then we have had none other than
this question before us : Shall the victories of war be cancelled by the
treacheries of " peace " ? But the author of this Diary calls us back to real-
ize what we have gone through, the cost of victory, and the necessity of
'* eternal vigilance " that is upon us.
December 31 — he writes —
Nihil est ab omini parte beatum,
" So ends this 1863. Oh I dying jear, you will record that the American
people increased its sacrifices in proportion to its dangers ; that blood, time
and money were cheerfully thrown into the balance against treason — inside
and outside. And brighter hopes dawn, and the salvation comes in Light."
The reader will find that the author's fi-eedom includes Mr. Lincoln's
policy in many of his severest criticisms, and perhaps with justice. How-
ever that may be, few will not share the feeling which prompted his touch-
ing, eloquent memoranda of April 15, 1865.
" The pilot of the government welters in his blood. This murder, this
oozing blood, almost sancti^r Lincoln. This end atones for all the short-
comings for which he was blamed and condemned by earnest and unyield-
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Book Notices. 399
ing patriots. Grand and noble will Lincoln stand in the world's liistory.
No crying injustice, not a single inhuman or perverse action stain Lincoln s
name ; and whatever sacrifices his vacillations may have cost the people,
those vacillations will now be foreivcn.
** His hand and his blood sealed the terrific struggle. His end will live ia
history, and the people's grateful, warm, and generous memory.
" The murderer's bullet opens to him immortality.
''He disappears in an apotheosis, and disappears with an unsullied name.
** He might have become crushed by the gigantic and difficult solutions
which he was to give during his further administration.
" To-day the regrets and the blessings of mourning humanity surround his
funeral pile." Eu.
A False and True Revival of Religion. A Sermon delivered at
Music Hall by Theodore Parker on Sunday, April 4, 1858. Boston :
Bela Mfc-sh, 14 Bromfield St. 1866.
Let us welcome this re-publication of Mr. Parker's famous sermoo. It
is timely. The financial disasters of 1857 prepared the way, and made 1858
a year of great revival interest to the Evangelical sects. It was at this time
that the Lord was called upon to put a hook in the jaw of the great preacher,
and, by some supernatural method, confound him in this study. But having
a better acquaintance with the Lord than most of the revivalists tliemselves,
he had no fears that any such extreme measures would be resorted to, and
so he kept steadily on at his work. " Sunday before last," he says, at the
commencement of his discourse, " I spoke of the false ecclesiastic idea of
God, and of its insufficiency to satisfy the demands of science and of reli-
gion. Last Sunday I treated of the true philosophic idea of God, and its
sufficiency to satisfy the wants of science and religion. To-day, I ask your
attention to some thoughts dn a false and true Revival of Religion. The
subject is a great one — both of present and lasting importance."
" When I hear of a Revival of Religion, I always ask. What do they mean
to revive ? Is it a religion that will make me a better man, hus-
band, brother, father, friend ; a^better minister, mechanic, president, street-
sweeper, king r^ no matter what — a better man in any form ? " The dis-
course closes with the following paragraph :
" Let you and me remember that Religion is wholeness, not mutilation ;
that it is life, and not death ; that it is service with every limb of this body,
every faculty of this spirit ; that we are not to take the world on halves
with God, or on sevenths, giving him only the lesser fraction and taking
the larger ourselves ; it is to spread over and consecrate the whole life, and
make it divine. Let you and me remember this." (How well he did re-
member f) '* How much can we do — a single man, a single noble woman
— with that life of natural Religion ! He who goes through a land and
scatters blown roses, may be tracked next day by their withered petals that
strew the ground ; but he who goes through it and scatters rose seed, a
hundred years after leaves behind him a land full of fragrance and beauty
for his monument, and as a heritage for his daughters and his sons. So
let you and me walk through life that we shall sow the seeds of piety and of
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400 The Radical.
morality, to spring up £&ir as these blossoms at my side, and rich as the
bread which is food for all the nations of mankind.'^
We have said that the republication of this discourse is timely. Perhaps
the efforts which have been put forth during the past winter, and which are
still being put forth to secure a "great revival of religion " in the country
by the orthodox churches, are equal to any heretofore made ; but the re^
suits are in no proportion to the past experience. The Religion of the
people is manifesting itself in new forms. Wiser by the experience of
eventful years, they show less of excitement, and are less noisy in their
professions. The revival systems work badly, but the true ends of life are
reached without them. These Discourses which Theodore Parker has
sown as " seed " in the land he loved, as they spring up bearing their fiiiit
from age to age, shall serve the great cause better than them alU Eix
Essays, Philosophical and Theological. By James Martineau.
Boston : William V. Spencer. 1866. pp. 424.
The most valuable thoughts in these elaborately written Essays are those
which place the writer's fine sense of the soul's freedom, individuality, im-
materiality, in contrast with various theories that either express or imply a
denial of those facts. Here Mr. Martineau is very successful, and shows
deep convictions, and warm religious sensibilities,- that refresh us after the
cool negations of the later English scientific school.
Of course, nothing but an extended review, that should take up these
separate points of interest, and set forth the faults of the theory of the con-
ditioned, of Bain's Cerebral Psychology, of Mansel's notion about the
impossibility of knowing God, &c., can do justice to Essays into which so
much thought and feeling have gone out of the distinguished writer. In this
place we can do no more than recommend the volume to readers of Mill,
Comte, Bain, Herbert Spencer ; assuring them that Mr. Martineau recog-
nizes the eminent services of all these thinkers, and takes exception chiefly
to points that involve important moral and spiritual interests. j. w.
NEW ENGLAND ANTI-SLAVERY CONVENTION.
The Annual New England Anti-Slavery Convention will be held
in Boston, at the Melodeon, on Wednesday, May 30th, at 10 o'clock,
A. M.
The great interests involved in the present political crisis call for
a full attendance, and a frill expression of opinions from all the friends
of human rights and reform on this occasion.
By order of the Managers of the Massachusetts Anti Slavery
Society.
Charles K. Whipple, Secretary.
John T. Sargent, President.
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THE RADICAL.
JULY, 1866.
DISCOURSES CONCERNING THE FOUNDATIONS OF
RELIGIOUS BELIEF.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
VL
NATURALISM.
THE substance of the preceding Discourses is not negative, but^
constructive. They reject Supernatural Authority only to ™
assert the Adequacy of Natural Religion. The voice of Na-
ture is the voice of God. Miracle in the theological sense is impos-
sible. We can have no other commandment than Natural Law ; we
can know no other Gospel than Natural Inspiration ; we can possess
no other guarantee of Truth than that Intuition and Recognition
which in every case prove it to be the native element and proper
force of Man.
" Were not the eye itself a strn
No sun for it could ever shine :
By nothing noble could the heart be won
Were not the heart divine."
It is time to reinstate a divine word which Theology has discred-
' ited ; time to bid our faith repair to those fountains whence all our
living waters flow. Let us not be deterred from welcoming * Nat-
uralism ' as expressive of the largest possible Belief.
Naturalism, according to some of its modem opponents, must
needs be Materialism. But a quaint writer two hundred years ago
said more wisely — " Nature is the very genius 0/ entity; it is being itself.
Cannot a soul be admitted into natural philosophy unless it bring a
certificate and commendamus from the body?" Properly that which
makes a thing what it is, the unalterabU law of its constitution^ is its
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nature. And the popular sense of the word has doubtless been de-
termined by the fact that such positive structural law is more obvious
to men generally in the physical sphere than in the moral or spirituaL
It is as irrational to speak of int^erence with the laws of Thought
or Conscience as it is to say that a thistle can become a fig and yet
remain a thistle. The nature of every substance is inviolable ; that
of the living soul no less than that of the dead stone. The one may
be a senseless, perishable mas% the other a mystery of endless
growth ; admit the difference^ but credit each nature with its own
effects. Do not say of the stone : it is natural for this to flash in the
light ; and then of the soul, it is not natural for this to call God Father
and Man Brother ; not natural for this to see and to do whatever Jesus
of Nazareth can be proved to have seen and done I Naturalism does
not bring the soul down to the law of the stone. It states a law of
the Universe, and states it in this wise, I should say. RekUrvdy^ the
Supernatural can only be for each being that life of Higher Beings
which can by no possibility ever enter into its sphere: since whatever
actually appears therein is by that very fact proved to be accordant
with its laws, and manifests their scope ; and so if God Himself is
incarnated in Man, then God is for Man as sucA, not supernatural,
, but natural ; the Two are essentially One : while absolutefyy the Super-
natural does not exist at all ; since the Highest has a nature, no less
truly than the lowest
Nature transcends the question of senses and spirit ; it covers the
whole of experience. Dr. Bushnell defines the Supernatural as the
freedom and spontaneity of the Will in distinction from that necessity
which binds the physical world. But there is a Spiritual Nature, and
that also is necessity. The Will has no more freedom to transcend
or violate that nature, than the sun has freedom to transcend or vio-
late his nature. We are just as much bound by its inherent moral
necessities when we choose to do wrong, as when we act becomingly ;
and the liberty of caprice is no liberty from these. We may disobey
the command of conscience, but we cannot break a law of our being ;
and spontaneity, however you may define it, is simply the expression
of our nature, not a life beyond it Even if it could be proved, as the
writer just mentioned would prove it, to be a force transcending the
law which proportions effect to cause, that would but enlarge the or-
dinary conception of Human Nature, and the Miracle, defined by
him as the expression of tins force, could in no case manifest die in-
coming of supernatural power. That larger* necessity would enfold
it, and direct its orbit as perfectly as gravitation holds and moves the
stars* All freedom falls within the nature of die being exercising it ;
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Naturalism. 403
nor has any spirit immunity from these limits, which are its proper
freedom. The sublimest volition of a saint has no more title to the
name of supernatural, than the imconscious fall of a stone. It but
reveals what he essentially shzx^ with every other being who can re-
spond to its appeal In this inviolate sanctity of its Nature, the
meanest thing you tread on blends itself with God. What is Immu-
table Morality but the Necessary Law of Deity ? God's Will would
not be perfect could it change Wrong to Right
Naturalism does not rest in the senses. It does not start from the
senses. It starts from the Idea of the Perfect, of the Immutable ;
from the Idea of Essential Adequacy —^ Adequacy of powers to
spheres ; of satisfactions to needs ; of law to life ; from Moral Invio-
lability and the indefeasible Conservation of Force^ spiritual as well as
physical, protecting Human Nature against Moral Loss. It rests
only in the Perfection of Providence, in the vital Necessity of Good.
But Naturalism denies the Miracle, and therein, it would seem, be-
comes the sum of all mfidelities. It aims at a Natural Science of
Belief ; therefore it must be Comte and Positivism. It refuses to be
drawn by the Mansels and the Hamiltons, by definitions of the
'Limits qf Religious Thought,' * Philosophies of the Conditioned,* or
other confess^pns' of natural incompetence, into inferences of the
" Necessity of Revelation" ; schemes for supplying sights and sounds
to organisms that have neither eyes to see nor ears to hear — new
phases of the old theological fiction of * Creation out of Nothing* : — *
it refiises this exploiting of philosophy in the interest of dogmatic
unreason ; therefore it has no bridge from Finite to Infinite, from
Conditioned to Absolute, phenomenal to noumenal ; in short, no Ob-
jective God ! It would be nearer truth to say that Naturalism, in
denpng this phantom bridge of * Revelation,* has taken a step towards
recognizing the real passage from one of these sides of thought to the
other : nay rather ; that all possibility of real knowledge must depend
on the fact which only Naturalism sees, of a vital, essential, absolute
and eternal union of the two factors in the very structure of Human
Nature itself
But there are graver charges than these. Prof. Fisher opens his
batteries on the Tubingen school of criticism by boldly ascribing
Naturalism in no slight degree " to the deep alienation of the human
heart from God." If you will not concede beforehand that miracles
may have happened, you are unfit to judge whether they have hap-
pened ; and it is futile to attempt to convince you that they have.
And you would so concede, if it were not for Ae natiu^l tendency to
an " unreligious temper " I In other words, the violation of Nature, sent
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404 The Radical.
to confute unbelief in the possibility of the Supernatural, thereby to
bring back alienated nature to God, demands that men should give
up the unbelief beforehand, because otherwise they cannot be made
to believe ; they have * begged the question in dispute ' ! The miracle
will have easy work, undoubtedly, if it is to appeal only to those who
admit already, as matter ofdutyy not only the possibility, but the need
of it. Naturalism, it seems, must deny itself at the outset, having no
right to its own standpoint. Has Supematuralism, then, no ante-
cedent assumption ? Observe this short way of disposing of the ri^t
of private judgment in matters of criticism. My neighbor affirms
that we can have no other guide than the laws of human thought and
experience. I regard this as irreligious, and insist that miracles are
perfectly in accord with human conditions ; hence there is every
reason to believe that this accordance should somewhere be shown ;
and the miracles of the Bible are the only ones in question ; in my
view, the only possible ones for illustrating that belief. We approach
the investigation. He endeavors to show me that the accounts are
explicable on his theory. I find them illustrative of mine. Where-
upon I inform him that he cannot possibly be right, because he did
not concede my postulate in the premises I Each of us had his
notion of Natural Laws. It was part of his that thay could not be
violated ; of mine that they might be. I start with assuming that
principle of their contingency which makes miracles not only credible,
but even probable under certain circumstances, among which is a
natural depravity requiring supernatural remedies ; and this assump-
tion also I bring to the inquiry. I assume miracle in my very concep-
tion of the Divine. He assumes the contrary of all this. — And yet I
venture the charge that he had prejudged the question of special mira-
cles, while I had not — and depart, shaking my head despairingly
over the natural depravity of his will !
But this is not all. " Naturalism," we are incessantly told, " must
be either Pantheism or Atheism." These are vague terms, in no
wise to be accepted in any special application without careful defini-
tions. They mean here, however, on the whole, simply unbelief in
Semitic Theology, To deny the possibility of Miracle is to deny a
God who stands in a mechanical instead of vital relation to the world ;
who creates it out of nought, in the void abyss beyond Him, instead
of evolving it out of his own infinitude ; making also provisional rules
for its government, and changing them at will as. a workman changes
broken or bad tools for new, instead of revealing Himself in it as es-
sential law. Miracle does but declare the right and power of such a
God to do what He pleases with this world which He has made and
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Naturalism* 405
contemplates from without If you do not admit Miracle, it must be
because you either do not believe that He is, or do not believe that
He is thus apart from the world ; Atheism or Pantheism. And this
is announced as the only possible sense of Divine Omnipotence, Per-
sonality, Intelligent Providence ; the only alternative to sinking them
altogether. It had strongest expression in the Semitic tribes, espe*
daily the Hebrews.
Naturalism accepts no such alternative ; no such limitation of Di-
vine Life. It affirms that it is of the very Perfection of (Jod to be
revealed in Immutable Law ; to be therein present in fulness of Wis-
dom, Power, Will and Love forever ; that Miracle is incredible be-
cause it would imply that these are not already thus immanent in
Law ; that Creation out of Nothing is impossible, because it implies
that this evolution of Divine Law in the depths of Divine Life is
inadequate, and that God must go beyond and outside ( ! ) this in-
finity of resource, to produce finite existence and consciousness, to
make a world. And it afiirms that Personality, which in its human
sense means that which distinguishes each individual from others
and from his own works, and so states his limUations by them, can
have no ^uch meaning in God ; that it must drop the finiteness as-
cribed to it in Semitic Theology, and become universal and all-
embracing, absorbing all finite personalities in its larger life. One in
a transcendent and real sense with all that exists. If this is Panthe-
ism, it is so in no such way as to deny Personality, or abolish Provi-
dence, or extinguish individualities within their own limits. If it is
the Pantheism that confesses God to be All in All, it is also the
Theism that trusts Him as the Soul of all-wise and beneficent Law.
I know what negations have been announced by many who profess
to follow Nature. I know what half-sight is possible in an age that
is studious of the physical sciences ; though its half-sight is, on the
whole, far more promising than that of ages that have not sought to
unveil their face. " Law," says Odilon Barrot, " is Atheist, knows
no God." And another French writer has just said, " There is no
God in the domain of Positive Philosophy ; unless you mean by God
the ideal type of moral good." The exception indicates how far such
statements are firom implying Atheism in any absolute sense. If,
however, we take them to mean that, they are about as sensible as to
say that the Code Napoleon knows of no Napoleon ; that there is no
Mind in the domain of French Thought No, not half so sensible ;
because the Ways of Nature reveal a great deal more Wisdom and
Care than any of our codes or philosophies. Even the Egyptians
represented Law as an Eye within a sceptre. What is Gravitation^ in
the last analysis J but Mind?
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4o6 The Radical.
What Naturalism properly affirms is that there can be no intarfer-
ence with the Natural Order, no contingency thereof on the issue of
Temptation even in the desert watches of a Hebrew Saint
And because it does this it is charged with depriving the soul of
its Father, by substituting a self-working machineiy for a living Wll ;
with making Prayer meaningless and leaving Sorrow comfortless;
with taking away the Authoritative Bible and Supernatural Saviour
that men need, and giving them nothing in place of these. It is 6ie
foe of Piety, because it affirms thiit God does not break His own laws,
and has no need of Miracles to uphold His world I
But we know that all this proceeds upon an inadequate conception
of what is meant by Divine Laws. If they are perfect, then tfiey
must coffer all those needs of the soul which miracles are thought
necessary to meet, provided they are real needs. Unchangeable Law is
the sign of perfect Serenity, Benignity and moral Beauty ; since onty
these could reach from the beginning to the end, sweetly ordering all
things. It b therefore the invitation to perfect obedience and abso-
lute trust. By faith in such law you lie down in quietness and arise
in strength ; you sow and reap ; you welcome the thunder storm, and
ride on the sea ; you plant purpose, hope, love ; you learn the awful-
ness of Duty, the joy of Spiritual Liberty. It is not the expectation
of miracles^ surely, that enables you to gain strength from weakness,
and patience from pain, and reconciliation with your lot from its stem
conditions. It is confidence that the Eternal Ways are all wise ways,
and the paths of our natural growth ; and therefore must be accepted,
not broken through. In life, in death, their fidelity is what assures
us ; the conviction that they will be to us what they were to our fath-
ers, to our children what they are to us. • What would all your dearest
associations with the invisible world profit you, if a moment's divine
caprice could overturn the laws of Heavenly Life, and we could trust
neither our minds nor hearts to bear witness of their endurance be-
yond the hour ? Can one whose very being rests on Unchangeable
Law, and abides in its securities and promises, doubt that it is the
Heart of God ?
It does not take the Father out of the world and leaver self-
working machine there in His place. The most rigid Development-
Theory does not imply that Law, whether you call it physical or, more
proi5erly, spiritual, is not mechanism. The Life that has kindled it
must continue to kindle it or it ceases to be. It cannot go on, * the
Maker being elsewhere at other work.' A man may leave his machine
to go of itself, because the laws of Nature do not depend on him. But
the laws of Nature, inward and outward, do depend on God. They
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Naturalism. 407
are His way of working. If there were no other means to prove
His Indwelling Presence, this steady, strong, unswerving, impartial
pulse of Law would be enough.
It does not destroy our faith in a living Divine Will. It causes
that Will to be recognized as infinite, unchangeable, beyond possi-
bility of caprice. It does not make Prayer meaningless, except as an
effort to change that Will, as the laws of life reveal it ; and this is
but the semblance, not the reality, of Prayer. It makes Prayer the
effort to be in (zccord with a Will as benignant as it is immutable j the
opening of the soul to welcome a strength and assurance whose law
it is to come^ when we are thus opened to it ; the longing to know and
love the Infinite Giver, and to grow in the appointed paths of Na-
ture ; the life accordant with Principles, with Rectitude and Good.
It does npt leave sorrow comfortless, for it points to every form o^
suffering as the condition of an insight to which we shall surely pen-
etrate at last, not a bitter accident, which a miracle must be sought
for to avert It does not fail to put anything in place of the author-
itative Bible and exceptional Christ it sets aside. It puts in their
place the unspeakable nearness of an Infinite Love and its adequacy
to every need.
For Law is the perpetual benediction of the Spirit — " My world is
as good and fair as at first, and needs no mending ; I dwell in its
perfect Order, and make its stability the sign of my Love." Men
know not what they do when they ask for Miracle. They forget that
their peace is gone, if one law of the universe should waver or slide.
Could it fully realize such break, the mind would reel with that sense
of utter insecurity in the whole fabric of things of which the heave of
an earthquake gives some faint conception ; nor would it recover its
composure from the shock of any apparent miracle, till the anomaly
was referred to some stable law. When people seek special inter-
ferences to save them from what they dread, it is in fact Divine protec-
tion that they substantially desire ; and they forget that Law itself is
the protecting and ultimately preserving force. When they ask for a
Miracle, what they in reality though unconsciously seek, is some
hitherto unrecognized form of Divine Law. And their impatience for
this is simply failure to appreciate the good will latent already in the
laws they dread ; laws that seem to bring only penalty, or to crush them
in the iron mechanism of Chance or Fate. But Nature hastens to
dispel the fears, and spiritual insight but anticipates scientific result
And therefore, whatever follies of private speculation may come of
its abuse. Positive Science, in its absolute freedom, whether geolog-
ical, astronomical, exegetical, social, moral, theological, spiritual, with
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whatsoever wrecks of old belief it may strew its path, can bring only
Appliances for Religion. It can only help, not harm that inner life
whose roots are in the sanctity and sweetness of Eternal Law. In
its very negations. Naturalism assumes a hundred fold more than
it denies. Its criticism is essentially the effort to have done with at-
tributing arbitrariness and inconstancy to the ways of God, and with
organizing them in the affairs of men ; to discover and obey the im-
partialities of a Divine Order. And this is to lift Piety from that
House upon the Sands in which the churches have isolated it, and
plant it under the open heaven, and in the living soil which Nature
has prepared for its free and happy growth.
"Where are the destructives the defenders of the faith are warning
us that we shall meet at every turn ? I do not find them. Pure ne-
gation is a monster, a chimera ; motiveless purpose ; nature never
made it. Even the Buddhist, yearning for extinction, is thirsting for
somewhat that cannot change nor pass away. Do we suppose that
when honest men criticise a book they see nothing beyond it ? The
Bible-anatomists, whose negations shake the old structures built on
texts, are in search of positive ethical and spiritual faith. Men who
declare that the Bible as a whole cannot be ' inspired,' cannot be
' God's Word,' because it is part true and part false, part noble and
kind, part miserable and hateful, that the chaff of this hoarded grain
must be separated from the wheat — do but mean that the hunger for
truth is dearer than any special harvests man has ever gathered in ;
that the Reason will not be stultified nor the Affections stifled in the
name of Religion, but insist on the Moral Perfection of God. They
subject the Bible to the tests of these first fathers of all the good the
Bible has in it, claiming for them the same Divine authority they had
in the old time for teaching that Shall not the same which made,
remake ? How shall they grow but by iw/jgrowing, how live but
by (W/ living their own work? Did they make one Book and then
die?
It would not be enough to say that purely negative criticism of the
Bible lasted but a little while, even in the common sense of the word.
It never existed at all, unmixed with some positive fruit It did not
content itself with proving that large portions of all the Books were
unfiistorical, that the authors of all but a very few were unknown,
that the biographies of Jesus could not have been composed by eye-
witnesses, or persons conversant with the facts of his life, and so on.
It was clearing away rubbish to find a buried root of truth. At the
very outset of denial it hastened to explain how these books really
originated \ to show that whether true or false historically, they grew
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Naturalism. 409
out of the aspiration of Man towards a Divine Life. Strauss has no
other essential purpose than to show how the myths arose out of an-
tecedent religious yearnings and beliefs. He claims to be " separa-
ting abiding elements of Christianity from transient opinion." The
Tubingen school, which disproves the historical validity of very large
parts of the New Testament, and the authenticity of most of the Books
thereof, claims the title by eminence, of a historical school. And with
entire reason, since its constructive criticism aims to put the Bible
into the natural chain of historical causes and effects, revering this to
the extent of allowing no exception to its control. In other words, it
venerates a God who vitalizes the whole History of Man, not one who
could be shut up within the Literature of a chosen People. Is there
any comparison as regards breadth of scope and depth of foundation
for the Religious Idea, between this principle and the creed it assails ?
Notice the religious possibilities of a scientific standpoint which
denies the Miracles on the ground of the inviolability and perfect
adequacy^ of Natural Law. Supematuralism by the side of them
looks even irreverent and unbelieving.
Here, too. Criticism was not content with mere denial nor mere
disproval, but immediately pointed out those general laws of mytho-
logical development in unscientific ages, which are signs of noble and
devout tendencies in human nature. For the Myth is a spontaneous
tribute of the Religious Imagination, to the men and things that win
its reverence and love. It is the happy play of these* emotions
through the poetic or creative faculty, shaping the world in their own
image, using life and death as they will. The Nativities and Trans-
figurations, the sympathetic Heavens and Earth of the old mythology,
are not destroyed, but ennobled, in being rescued from the hard lit-
eralism of the dogmatists in the name of that divine faculty which the
little children share with Homer and Shakespeare, and all the great
open-ey^ Seers.
Thus while denying the error that God has broken His own laws,
Naturalism discloses in the very error the creative energy of Man's
Religious and ^Esthetic Powers. ^
Notice, too, the significance of certain Doctrinal Negations. The
rejection of the theological Atonement is not unbelief in retributive
law. It is the claim for Deity of a purer justice than that which
would punish one for the sin^ of all, or count the sin of finite beings
infinite, and exact for it an infinite penalty. It is the refusal to as-
cribe to the All-wise the folly of attempting by the sacrifice of Himself
to appease His own justice, offended by human transgression. It is
the assurance that the Infinite does not need to go through a dra-
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4IO The Radical.
matic death on the cross, in the shape of a man, when He would
manifest the perfection of His love.
The rejection of the theological dogma of Incarnation b not unbe-
lief in God's presence in the world and the soul. It is the claim that
this Presence shall not be confined within One Person, since it is the
very Life of the Race, and can be fully incarnated only in the History
of the Race.
The denial of official mediatorship or superhuman nature to Jesus
of Nazareth is not disparagement of the Inspiration which shone in
his life. It is the demand that this Inspiration shall not be made to
tell against the religious and moral capacities of Human Nature, but
shall tell for them, as essentially human gift He shall not be made
exceptional ; since it is precisely this noblest man who should be
every way like us as men, that he may help us as men by his moral
power, and yet be no titled official set over souls as the head is set to
rule the members in the body. To record him as a great religious
genius is to honor him as much as it is possible to honor man ; for
such genius is beyond all else venerable and dear, everywhere giving
the sense of a divine illumination and an intuitive S3mipathy with
every one's best To deny that his character and religion could be
sent down ready made, inserted from without into human history, is
to pronounce the natural order of human events and the natural evo-
lution of human character to be of themselves, read rightly, the Reve-
lation of God in Man. It is to demand that this sacred movement
shall not be dbparaged by the exclusion from it of its noblest steps.
It is to make the mo$t of this sublime illustration of the relations of
religious genius to the teachings and wants of its time ; of the inter-
weaving of Inspiration with Education, as the law of Spiritual
Progress.
Here is a Religious Philosophy of History that seems to deserve
the name ; since God and Man, the necessary terms, are here asen-
Holly and vitally related, making philosophical generalization possi-
ble, and its statements valid for all times and all issues.
And what is this new Criticism and Belief in its Public Aspects f
Properly the assertion of Human Nature in its central fact of Broth-
erhood, against all exceptionalities and partialities in Church and
State. It is the Radicalism of Brotherhood as positive natural Law.
It b MorcU RccUism; Principles withdrawn from the sphere of die
abstract and impracticable, in other words, the supernatural, and
taken as constructive forces with full rights to the social fields, nay,
as their natural growth and natural demand. It holds Church and
State to the same laws of essential Democracy ; and while it forbids
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Naturalism. 411
that either should, as positive institution, arbitrarily interfere with the
other, it points both to their higher identity in a common allegiance to
these democratic laws. The true political radical who denounces
the theological radical, is like a picket who does not know his own
password when he hears it from another's lips, and so shoots his own
comrade in the dark. The one insists that the Human Form, in
highest and lowest, is sign of Human Nature, neither more nor less^
and holds the State to that The other holds the Church to the same
rule ; and forbids its denial of an essential identity of nature in all who
have ever worn that Form. What is Anti-slavery in Politics is Anti-
supematuralism in Psychology. I do not mean that individuals can
be kept to consistency in these matters. I am speaking of essential
meanings. An official Christ is as anti-democratic as a privileged race.
Naturalism applies Love and Justice to society as Sovereign Law.
It is content with nothing short of the devoutness of consecration
which this demands. In the name of this it meets policies, expedi-
encies, compromises, denominational and political, with the reproof
that truth cannot submit to their evil handling, nor the public needs
allow their shuffling delays. It assails every form of Slavery as in-
fraction of Natural Right It demands the complete Emancipation
of Labor in the name of a legislation divinely recorded in the Organi-
zation of Man. Material interest and military necessity have not
satisfied it The plea for liberty rises into die moral and spiritual
sphere, because it is in the name of Nature. It will not be cheated
of its right to rest on immutable principles ; and such are forever
divine. And the facts of the time approve this religious radicalism as
the best exponent of its master currents. Read there the Fate which
urges us ; no downward track, but the sublime justification of God in
Man. Was not the Immediate Emancipationist the truest prophet
among us — he whose moral abhorrence of Slavery refused the slow
paths of policy and concession, and called for its swiftest possible
overthrow ? We lay long miles of political pipe-clay to drain off by
easy grade the sin that lies around our doors ;• scrupulous of every-
thing but the Moral Law it offends. But behold, that alone repre-
sented the living fact ; that alone was master of the situation ; and
the earth under our feet fiames with the swift retributions which alone
can save. If you have built your State on Natural Right, dare to
trust this utterly. Nature is holding you to a better than the best you
can see. You shrink from her grand consistencies and equalities that
you do see, only to find that this moment was authoritative with larger
ones that you knew not ; nay, that you could not know, till through
your own virtue or by her compulsions, jo\x had done fairly by the
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412 The Radical.
first Her purpose is always ahead of even your boldest plan, nor will
it wait your convenience. If you defer negro sui&age, you turn white
suffrage into calamity, and it shall rend you ; for you have doomed it
to be a beast, when Nature would have given it a soul. She is hold-
ing you to a better than negro suffrage, even Universal Justice ; and
if you will not let it come but by madness, the madness shall haste
to do its own perfect work.
And the Civil War, sternest necessity of our political Naturalism,
was recreative and constructive. Its moral vindications brought us
not Nationality only, but Faith, which is the Soul of Nationality.
What a comment are its issues on the cry we have been so used to
hear, that a pestilent Radicalism, prying at the foundations of Church
and State, was sweeping off Religion to perish in seas of blood!
Yes, a * religion ' was indeed perishing ; one that had known palmy
days, when Church and State seemed anchored fast in the divine
authority of Slavery ; when to shelter the friendless against its wrath
was treason ; when conscience, pleading a Higher Law against it, was
' monomania ; ' when the Bible was a slave code, and the Market a
slave speculator, and the Constitution a title-deed to property in
Man ! But what was that which shone in on the Conscience of the
People, when criticism had given place to sterner resources of the
Moral Laws, and the seas of blood did their work, and it was proved
that such a Religion had no proper hold in this Universe and must
go down, though all parties upheld it, and its death should cost the
lives of a generation ? Did any people ever hear before now, all
things considered, such a Revelation of the Sovereignty of Justice as
that was ? I know how far we ^e from the righteousness that be-
Cometh a Nation ; but can I believe that there was ever so much Pos-
itive Religion in this land as there must be to-day ? Let us make no
vain pretences ; let us confess that the lesson is not yet re%d, nor the
duty done. But let us recognize what germs must have had birth, of
noblest faith and will, that shall find work to do before long ; what
wondrous Presence of Eternal Right, overshadowing, overruling,
compelling and preserving, hais pressed close on every soul that could
think or feel, and made it confess that we and all our works are in
Its Hands.
And what faith in the Nation's Future these Sovereignties of Nat-
ural Law have nursed 1 I know not what else could have sustained
it through the long darkness, and made the night to be such light
about us. They were the thread of the stem labyrinth, which he who
held not fell into bewilderment and despair. How they turned every-
thing into helpfulness of motive or of warning ; interpreting all dis-
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Naturalism. 413
couragements in the interest of courage and fidelity ; the vicissitudes
of War, the conspiracies of parricides, the secret foes in the household,
the slowness and blindness of the popular conscience, the bitter blun-
ders of the popular favor ! And they still admonish us in the perils
that are now imminent, and for the struggles yet to come, that the cut
of God's plough runs deeper than the devices of politicians, or the
failure and treachery of trusted guides.
America means Naturalism ; the Religion of Democracy is the es-
smiial union of God with Humanity. The boundless faith of her
Moral Reformers means simply that if your ideals are all credited to
Nature, you shall know its capabilities, and with absolute conviction
put in the largest practical claim for every person. Naturalism is
absolute confidence in Thought, in Liberty, in Progress, as Human
Functions and Forces. Its watchword is : let each be true to his
own soul ; let the whole guard the rights that are shrined in each.
It is not infidelity nor apostasy. It is not expulsion from an Eden
of Faith into storm and night. It is a magnificent Exodus out of the
bondage of unbelieving traditions into the Promised Land of Truth
and Love. It is the assurance that there can be no antagonism be-
tween perfect freedom to seek truth, and will to worship the Spirit of
Truth. Science is no Atheist. It is divine because it is humane ;
faithftil to God's leading because true to Man's needs. The age is
alive with its achievements and presentiments, and to bring all things
within the folds of Eternal Law is the joy of existence. God has
made it so, not that He may be less trusted and loved, but that He
may be better understood. The glad tidings of this Gospel make us
bold to bring all secret miseries and sins to the remedial light, and
command that the coward's crooked paths delay us no longer. The
forward look knows no doubt. The wise men are pointing on fi-om
the hill-tops, and the old theological camps are breaking up : we are
crossing over into our natural heritage.
We are set to prove that the fullest Liberty of Inquiry is one with
the Piety that bears fruit in the love of all uses ; that it is the path
not of barren skepticism, but of trust in the best aspirations, in the
set of all experiences towards ultimate good. Naturalism must find
a blessed life in its Humanities, which Supematuralism could not
find in its Miracles. It is to justify its war against error and wrong
by drawing its strength from spiritual deeps. It comes to bind the
wounded spirit, not to break the bruised reed. Nor would it pull
away from under men the poor prop of one failing error, without of-
fering in its stead an upholding truth.
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THE CHASE.
BY A. BRONSON ALCOTT.
Q*ER earth and seas,
In sunshine, shade.
Blest Beauty crossed,
Nor stopt nor staid.
Nor temples took.
Nor idols hewed.
Apart she dwelt
In solitude.
In solitude, Heart said:
"Where find the maid?
My bride's a fugitive,
From sight doth live,
And hearts are himters of the game,
Pursuers of the same
Through every passing form,
The Beauty that all eyes do seek,
All eyes do but deform ;
The love our faithless lips woidd speak
Dies on the listless air,
Nature befriends us not.
Nor hearthside doth prepare
■ In all her ample plot;
Life 's but illusion.
Cunning confusion;
Flings shadows pale about our path,
She shadow is, and nothing hath ;
Eyes are divorced from seeing.
Hearts cloven clean from being;
My bride I cannot find,
My love I cannot bind;
The thousand fair ones of our sphere.
Fond, false ones all, nor mine, nor dear;
The Paradise
I would surprise,
From all my following flies,
And I 'm a thousand infidelities ;
There 's none for me
In all I see;
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Illusion. 415
Surely the Fair One bides not here,
Where dwells she, where, in any sphere?"
In any sphere
Love whispered : " Where, where if not here ? "
•Here in thy breast the maiden find,
Ideas sole imparadise the mind;
Here heart's hymeneals begin.
Here 's ours and only ours from ours within ;
Through parting gates of human kind
Enter thou blest the Unseen Mind.
ILLUSION.
BY EDWARD FINLEY.
MAN the sport of numberless deceptions, seems to possess a
constitutional relish for being deceived. Those are esteemed
the most fortunate, who are clothed in the thickest and soft-
est mantels of illusion ; and life is a game wherein most of the compet-
itors are striving to surpass their fellows in the accomplishment of
being cheated. Society is a mansion of specious forms and flowing
materials, where each breath of air and rzy of light from the solid
world of reality, must be tempered and toned to accord with the
whims or the necessities of the inmates. It is a castle of clouds that
may influence like sweet enchantment, or like stifling vapor. And
a very considerable part of the world's pageantry is produced by a
mob of spectors marching to annihilation.
Society, custom, and opinion, though they embody so much that
is real, and genuine, and beautiful, are still a grand apotheosis of illu-
sion. The world is quite extensively worn to rags ; and the vast
party of conservation are flaunting the shreds and patches in the
sun and breeze, as if they were banners to proclaim the advent of the
Millenium. But only a few can see clearly, that it would be the best
wisdom and prudence, to submit this social rag-bag of wont and
custom, to the potent chemistry of truth, and progress, and sincerity,
to be made into clean white paper, whereon to write anew the gospel
and poem of humanity.
In spiritual affairs illusion has the largest supremacy. The popu-
lar religion is like a perpetual coronation ceremony of the king of
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4i6 ' The Radical.
ancient Mexico, who, as Montaigne says, " swears to make the sun
run his course in his wonted light, to drain the clouds at a fit season,
to confine rivers within their channels, and to cau§e all things neces-
sary, for his people to be borne by the earth." These promises were
' not likely to fail of fulfillment ; and the king was sure to get the glory
J of the performance, though he had no hand, but only a credulous
conceit in the matter. The popular theology is mainly an illusion.
It takes little account of Nature ; but is sure to claim the credit of
Nature's best performance. The light as it forever flows from the
Spiritual Sun, is boundless and free ; but the popular theology says.
It is all the bottled article, extracted firom the ancient records and
traditions, and you have no right to use it, except you take it with the
proper label. And the prevailing belief in such assumptions, makes
it resemble st^l more closely, the coronation of the king of Mexico.
Swift describes a pack of philosophers, who devoted their lives and
expended all their wisdom in trying to extract sunshine from ripe
cucumbers. This extract was to be bottled and used as a substitute
for daylight The world will no doubt be considerably better off
when this race of philosophers has become extinct
Illusion makes a world wherein extremes meet in strange and start-
ling combinations. It is a world where tadpoles dine on whales, ele-
phants wage irrepressible conflicts with mice, Brobdingnags are the
bond slaves of Liliputians, the people are required to honor the an-
cient prophets as the Isrealites honored Joseph, by carrying their
bones into the land of promise, the Past is made the guardian and
overseer of the Present and Future, the sun begs a tallow candle to
light himself to bed, and the soul is a dried leaf stuck between the
pages of an old book.
Nature appears as chief manager in this play of illusion ; and she
treats man as a child, whose vision is not enough developed to behold
real substances in the untempered light of truth, as one who is only
capable of observing the shadows that glide through the cave which
he inhabits. With his interior eyes but partially developed, or still
in the rudimentary state, and with the soul suggesting the visions of
reality that await him in the upper light, man is ever ready to listen
to the vague rumors and unsatisfactory reports from the unexplored
regions of day. Human nature is a continent whose boundaries are
nowhere inside the horizon ; and it is not surprising that the disposi-
tion prevails to credit the reports of the Gullivers and Manchausens,
who profess to have sailed farther than the horizon dared to lead or
follow.
Man is the victim of his greatness, as much as of his littleness. He
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Illusion. • 417
k dazed and bewildered upon the vast, undefined continent of his
own being, and is constantly mistaking it for foreign territory. He is
fallen heir to a larger possession than he is at present capable of
overseeing ; and he does not know how to distinguish his own estate
from the mirage that overspreads it Illusion rules and captivate!
through the senses ; and these superficial reporters need the constant
correction of a deeper instinct and intuition.
Over most lives illusion is king ; but its government is in the main,
mild and soothing ; and it was no doubt established to promote the
happiness and welfare of mankind. Man is kept with spectres and
shadows in the dim twilight ; but he is being prepared to use his eyes
in the perfect light, when he has been got ready to be ushered into
its splendor ; and the result may prove that we have all been cheated
for our own benefit.
For vast numbers, illusion prepares a fine heaven, by getting them
to look at all objects and events through their vanity and self-conceit
It is a cheap method whereby the poorest individual may behold him-
self large and luminous as the sun. Very foolish, or even disgusting,
may be some of the grosser manifestations of vanity and self-esteem.
An immortal spirit and prospective god flaunting its adventitious
feathers, cultivating attitudes before the 'cracked mirror of public
opinion, or worshipping its own exaggerated reflection in the shallow
pool of self-conceit, — that is a right which is ludicrous, sad, and
pitiful I But there is still left some ground for singing the praises of
egotism and vanity. Man is defended by self-esteem against being
crushed into imbecility, in presence of the thronging majesty of the
Universe. How could he live without this protection against the
overwhelming sublimities that surround him I
Man is an egotist, and that is in part his compensation for not
being a god. He must not sink through self-abasement into helpless
despair; therefore nature has so liberally furnished him with this
soothing and invigorating balm of self-concdfc ; and the sweet story
of his greatness is whispered in his private ear, to assure him that, in
spite of rags and hunger, persecutions and contempt, he is undergo-
ing the cruel ordeal of unappreciated grandeur. He is a king un-
seated from his throne, but still possessing the divine right to rule.
Or, if the career be renowned and prosperous, then, it is the case of
a celestial luminary appointed to shine intcf grim alleys and paltry
vegetable gardens, when its rays would be sufficient to supply health
and vigor to boundless fields of tropical vegetation. The swiftest
promotion cannot overtake this shadow, self-conceit ; for it is the
promotion that helps to produce the shadow.
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4x8 The Radical.
Man cannot live free and isolated from his fellows. In society
there must be some regard shown for the tastes and opinioiis of
others. It is felt to be good and soothing to bask'in the world's ap-
proving smile, and an evil to tremble beneath its condemning frown.
One is anew confirmed in his act or opinion, if he finds that it meets
with the approval of those for v^ose favorable judgment he feels any
concern. There is apt to appear value and encouragement in the
cheapest opinion, if it chance to h^for us and not agamst us. Vanity
comes to the help of egotism, and makes the sentence which coin-
cides with one's own act or opinion seem potent and wise, howev^
absurd and foolish it mig^t be in any other case. How like fragrant
winds from blooming tropic bles is the breath of applause, though
blown from luogs whose possessors are only a litde more rational
than the bellows that inspires the flame in the forge I If the wind be
in our sail, why stop to inquire from what fragrant fields or unsi^tly
sloughs it has contel It was not altogether unreasonable, the prop-
osition of Franklin, to give thanks for our vanity, because it helps to
make us pleasant, and kindly, and comfortable. Who would deprive
the peacock of its brilliant, feathery glory, and leave it with only the
comfort to be derived from its unsightly feet and unmusical voice 1
And what greater comfort would be left to many a human cousin of the
peacock, if deprived of the glory of bright gilding, and the ecstasy of
fine plumage 1
Along with the rest, there goes forth this proclamation also : Great
b paint ; great is the joy of fine plumage ; sweet the ravishment of
admiring eyes ; and more delicious than all the beauties and harmo-
nies of spring-time, the music of aj^lauding speech ! The most
beautiful object may hav^ some features^ which if put in the fore-
ground would make it appear unsightly and disagreeable. It is no
more than an act of justice towards the company, for one to put his
best qualities and features foremost Though you may have been
scowling and frowning^n solitude, it would be best to greet the friend
or stranger who may ha{^n in unawares, with the balm and sunlight
that flow from cheerful smiles. And if the teacher is sometimes com-
pelled to prepare his discourse in the midst of a mob of dyspeptic
fiends that harry his soul into a discordant tempest, which threatens
to wreck his hopes and extinguish forever the light of his faith, —
yet, he should endeavor to make his speech, if not as the dawning
sunlight from beneath this chaos and night, then at least, as the rain-
bow against the grim background of clouds. And there need be no
hypocrisy or preten^on in a performance of such sort. Because yon
introduce your friends into the parlor, is no) to be construed into a
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denial of the fact, that there is also connected with the establisment
a laundry and a kitchen. It is refreshing to go into public assem-
blies, if for nothing else than to see the people clean and well-attired,
sitting under the illumination of cheerftil faces ; though there is no
need of denying the other side of the picture, namely, that most
of those who compose this fine assembly have had some experi-
ence in slovenliness and frowning. Nature puts on the paint and
external ornament to spare our tender sen^ilities, as in Jike
manner, the terminations of the nerves are protected by the stolid
cuticle.
Great is paint, great is illusion I Illusion may be the most real part
of the play. Are the illusive hopes that shed a radiant cbarm around
the life of youth, less real than the despondency and drooping that
have succeeded the bursting of these fine bubbles ? The person upon
whom you are calling to-day, may have used harsh and unkind speech
against you yesterday ; but that does not prove that the words of
cordial greeting spoken to your face, are not genuine and sincere.
Your presence may have banished the darkness that overshadowed
the love of your friend, and you have enjoyed the genial reflection of
your own light The sun does not chide as hypocritical our smiling
and good cheer in the joy of his returning presence, because a mo-
ment ago we sat beneath the clouds in complaining distrust of his
beneficent regards for us. The poem may be excellent, thqjigh the
philosopher may undertake to prove that its grace and beauty are
extracts of the slaughter-house whence the poet was fed.
We should be slow and careful in making the charge of hypocrisy.
It is illusion a hundred times, or a thousand times, to hypocrisy once.
It is not easy to see ourselves as others see us ; neither is it neces-
sary that we should look through our neighbor's eyes. His eyes ai^e
as apt to be short-sighted and defective as our own. God has kindly
furnished each one with organs, which Bxe apt to make his own
individual endowment appear bountiful and large. Who would de-
prive the beggar of the cheap optical illusion which can change his
rags into robes as royal as the rainbow !
You shall not strip life bare of its illusions, unless it is to take de-
light in seeing the streets and houses thronged with ghosts and skel-
etons ; and when you suppose that you have rent the garment of illu-
sion so as to expose life clear of its disguises, it may be that you have
only been wrapping yourself deeper in the folds of this seamless robe
that bandages the whole of mortal life.
And if there is a skeleton in your closet, it were best not to be too
firee in exposing it ; for the exhibition may produce 00 better effect
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420 The Radical.
than to set the gossips to speculating as to the value they might pot
upon it at the anatomical museum.
It is best to have life arrayed in prismatic colors, though the display
is produced by our glasses, rather than have it sombre and sad for
the sake of getting it more real. For the question will recur :
Whether is most real, the illusion or that which is generally accepted
as reality ? m
If the pleasure be real and innocent, it is of little consequence
whether it was tinsel or diamond that produced it So long as we
are children deluded with toys, it is only important that the enter-
tainment should be wholesome and agreeable ; and if so far success-
ful, what hnports it, whether the toys be cheap or dear? Other
things being equal, it is better to be happy than wretched, though
your happiness subsist upon illusion ; for your wretchedness may
also live and flourish upon illusion.
There is herein intended no plea for pretension and hypocrisy.
But it is a duty each one owes to society, to exhibit to others hi^most
attractive voice and features, whenever he can do it and still be true
to the occasion and the hour. Men appear more courteous and re-
fined when in the society of women than at other times ; and they
appear so because they are so. The good, the beautiful and true,
are the only realities, whether theu: supremacy ends with the hour, or
continues through the ages.
Each one views himself with eyes that are unlike his neighbor's ;
and it is impossible for those whom society pronounces lost and rep-
robate,, to consider themselves as sunk S9 low as they appear to
others. There is no state of hell and degradation in the soul that is
not illuminated by some gleams of heaven and supernal regeneration.
God supplies balm and consolation to counteract the agony and de-
spair of the worst conditions. We are all folded 'in sweet, soothing
bandages and mantles of illusion. In one way or another, all men
are illustrations of that story of the king, who, for the cure of some
malady, was advised to wear the shirt of the happiest man in his king-
dom; but when the happiest man was found, he. was too poor to '
possess the desiderated article. There is a imiversal desire to be
clothed in tlie vesture of happiness ; but the happy ones are all ar-
rayed in shining robes that were wrought in the subtle loom of their
own reason or fancy. Plato mentions a Greek poet, who taught that
the future heaven was to consist in a state of perennial inebriation.
And there is, no doubt, much truth in this notion, if we take it in a
sense to signify the intoxication of finer faculties upon the etherial
essences that distil firom the exuberant life and beauty of the Uni-
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Illusion. 421
verse. It might prove a lean and sorry heaven if all illusion were
shut out The highest spiritual ecstacy borders on insanity. The
heaven of love is mainly a heaven of illusion. The lover endows the
object of his devotion with qualities and attributes that are in most
part creations of his own mind. His own fancy has wrought the halo
of light which adorns the object he adores ; and the mistake may be
less in worshipping an illusion than in suffering the illusion to vanish.
It is a kindly deception that makes each babe seem the most sweet
and lovable to its own mother. The golden and silver mountain of
clouds would be a bank of cold vapor and fog if one could arrive at
their distant summits.
Our home is in the kingdom of illusion. We count ourselves rich
in the possession of such light currency as flatteries, compliments,
and self laudations. The perfumed dandy and the sturdy farmer, the
self-righteous religionist and the person of loose and easy habits, look
upon each other and make the discovery that they have abundant
reason for being thankful that they are not as other men are. There
is a true spirit in which each one might repeat the prayer of the
Pharisee.
Persons who are but motes in the sunbeam, may imagine them-
selves to be necessary props and pillars to sustain the huge edifice of
society ; and they may wield their sceptres of straw with the compla-
cent feeling that their office can be little lower than that of appoint-
ing the observant planets to their respective orbits. Many a little
reformer is, to his own observation, playing the part of a giant Her-
cules, with his massive shoulder pressing hard and propelling the
wheels of progress. The proud, sanctimonious pharisee may be
honest enough in the illusion that he is one of the chief supports of
the moral foundations of the Universe ; and he may well be thankful
that he is not as others, whaare giving the world permission to topple
into ruin and chaos. The dullest hack that plods in the treadmill,
may be solaced with the cheating fancy that he is harnessed to the
car of the sun and sublimely careering through space.
Our hands would droop oftener than they do now, if we were not
deluded into the belief that holding them up will be die means of
drawing down victory upon the hosts that are fighting to secure the
sanity and safety of the world. Till we are fully bom into the life
of spiritual insight and obedience, there is need of these exaggerated
opinions of our individual importance, to keep us in our places and
insure the performance of our tasks. It is like the creed of our Re-
public, which counts each man a scJvereign king, though his actual,
relative importance is less than that of the ant in the ant-hill.
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4:22 The Radical.
And there is also the illusion of deaths a spectre in the dark, to
check our eager haste, and frighten us back to our appointed tasks.
Who would bear the •* slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," if it
were not for this spectre that guards the gate of our exit to more
future spheres ?
One of the worst forms of illusion is literalism. It is paralysis of
the imagination, produced by a pressure of facts on the brain. It
brings poetry and inspiration upon a level with statistics. It rqects
the fine poem, because it does n't prove anything, or puts upon it a
literal interpretation which robs it of all its sense and meaning. The
worst misfortune that can befall a work of true genius and fine imagi-
nation, is to be interpreted by one who has neither genius nor imagi-
nation. This is an attempt to put the rainbow into an earthen cruci-
ble for chemic analysis. It is a process that would exalt the statis-
tician and man of affairs upon the throne of the world, and prove
that Milton, and Shakespeare, and Plato, and Jesus, were little better
than self-deluded and incoherent babblers.
For the literalist there is no key to the proper solution of the
meaning of the world. His mind is pre-occupied with appearances
and closed against realities. He has suffered the representative to
come betwixt himself and that which it was made to represent,
Having dissected the bird which is reported to have produced the
golden eggs, he is fully prepared to contradict the rumor ; for he has
found it a conunon goose, fit only for roasting and eating. This bird
is the world. To ^ose who possess insight and imagination, it is
the bird of the golden eggs, the plumage of light, and the song of the
spheres ; but to the literalist it is simply a goose, which is to be well
plucked and set down in the report of the market The world k not
a system of plain literalism. All that is visible is pictorial and rep-
resentative of the invisible. The invisible 'substances have cast these
hard, opaque shadows that encounter the senses.
The object must be important which calls forth all this array of il-
lusion. The child is supposed to be worth more than all the expense
of toys and trinkets that are provided for its amusement and edu(:a'^
tion ; and it must be tfiat man, for whom this wide kingdom of illu-
sion has been prepared, is, in his own person, of some weight and
importance in the system. Magnificent plays and spectacles are not
prepared for imbeciles and beggars. If the gods assist in planning
the games and shifting the scenes, it follows that it is no insignificant
personage who is to be instructed, and entertained.
All things conspire to teach the importance of the individual ; and
when we arrive at pure insight, we shall no longer have any need of
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Enlightenments. 423
such props and poultices as self-esteem and vanity to sustain us.
We shall then subsist upon the same right and authority which sus-
tains whatever is real and permanent in the Universe. We are more
than chips and filings and empty vapors cast out from the vast labo*
ratory of nature. The illusion derives its grandeur from the individual
that beholds it And it is no illusion to suppose that our best life
and effort are dear and necessary to God.
There remains always the choice betwixt the lower and the higher,
the finer and the coarser illusions. We have power to choose whether
the creations of fancy that throng our waking dreams shall be goblins
and fiends, or messengers from the realms of light
It may be that man is contending with the winds and waves upon
a boundless ocean of illusion, or traversing in triumphal cars the
glowing regions of fancy ; the brilliant pageantry of battle, and the
superb trappings of victory may be^uch stuff as dreams are made of;
but behind all this show and glare of prepared scenery, remain for-
ever the reality of heroism, the joy and consolation of beauty, the
glory of manhood or womanhood, and the divine majesty of virtue.
ENLIGHTENMENTS.
BY JAIRUS.
f The Organ Grinders. — I commend the good moral sentiment of the
following, which is taken from the Boston Evening Commercial,
" The organ grinders and harpers have opened the spring and summer
campaign with unusual vigor. The city, from mom till dewy eve and into
the night, is resonant with music. A disciple of Jeremy Bentham, the util-
itarian philosopher, doubtless regards a sturdy peasant from Genoa or Sa-
voy, with strong thews and sinews, engaged in grinding Dixie's Land or
the Marseillaise among a group of little boys and girls for a few coppers
thrown at him out of a window, as a nuisance, and as guilty of a wretched
misapplication of muscle. On the score of utility there is not much to be
said for the organ grinders, it is true.
" But tbey do good, after aU. In such a thoroughfare as State street,
where the sons of Mammon most do congregate, a stray air from an organ,
with its pathetic appeal to the sense of harmony, makes its hearers aware
that there are other emotions besides the purely selfish ones in the human
breast Even on the score of utility these poor organ-grinders need not
blush in the presence of professionfd politicians and professional office-
holders. They have come all the way from the land of art and song to
keep alive, in our purely business population, the sense of the beautiful and
harmonious. Their expectations are very moderate. They are satisfied
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424 The Jladical.
to cany back to their native country a very moderate competency. They
bring hither with them a certain odor of Italy. Mignon and the Blind
Harper, in the novel of Wilhelm Meister, were wandering minstrels like
our organ-grinders. It was they who sang that most beautiful of all
songs:
" ' Know*8t thou the land, where the citrons bloom,
' Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom,
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows,
And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose ? '
'' That land, it is needless to say, is Italy, and it is just now said to be
pretty well crowded with Americans. The young girls who accompany oar
organ-grinders, are not many of them Mignons, but are for the most part
poor, jaded-looking creatures, with but little of the mysterious sentimeat
and wild longing for their £ur Southern fsitherland, which found utterance
in the songs of Goethe's little heroine. It is singular that the organ-
grinders are not interfered with by some of our meddlesome Pharisees,
who begrudge the laboring man a ch^ap ride in the horse cars on Sunday,
and would £a.in compel him and his family either to walk into the country
on that day, for a sniff of fresh air, or else pay the exorbitant charge of a
livery stable keeper. SmaU evangelical parsons have alwa3rs been £unous
for cant The Rev. Gradgrind and Stiggins are fair representatives of the
class.
" But to return to our street musicians. It seems that they form a regu-
larly organisted hody, guild or fraternity, with some kind of a Head Centre,
Years ago they used to stray into the rural districts. Now and then, a
dark-eyed gypsy -girl, decidedly fascinating, accompanied the wandering
minstrel. The harpers, male and female, seem to be much more given to
roving than the organ-grinders. The fiicilities for travel enable them to
pass all over the country in a single season, dispensing music from the At-
lantic to the Great Lakes, and up and down all the navigable rivers. In
autumn, at the cattle ^rs and agricultural gatherings, we have native min-
strels, who alternately sing and fiddle, and sell soap or some highly deter-
gent liquid, warranted to remove all spots and stains from garments. Such
itinerant venders, if witty and possessed of a good vdice, drive a flourishing
business.
" Their musical gift draws them a plenty of customers. The New York
Organ-grinders sent a regiment to the war, at the breaking out of the re-
bellion, under a colonel who unfortunately got into Sing Sing for his pecu-
lations and frauds on the government
'' The most tragical fact in the history of street musicians, is the death
of the English artist Leech, who died of organ grinders. But he was the
victim of a morbid sensitiveness."
Something will come of it. — There is nothing that annoys me more
than to hear the idle gossip of such people as have no other business in life
but to advise others, and make ignorant comments on their modes of living.
The gist of very much of their talk runs thus : " You had a great deal better
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Enlightenments. 425
be doing something else than what you are doing." (This might well be
said of the advisers themselves to the extent that their gossip is concerned,
at least.) Now I protest in behalf of all free people that they be allowed to
do what they love to do, and to keep their own ways in peace and hope.
For I believe that nothing innocent and good in itself which any person ever
did was ever done amiss. Who knows what varied service Emergencies
will demand ? And every person of wit and purpose in life must face, at
least, a dozen of thos^ angels in disguise. A wide culture is not adverse
to singleness of aim, and Genius is not hindered but served by it I com-
mend to my readers the following anecdote of Stewart ;
" Stewart made up his mind to go to London and see if he could not be
a painter, as West had become.. He seems to have taken with him a full
stock of poverty, enthusiasm, and hope — a painter's capital — poor fel-
low 1 He expected to find Waterhouse in London, who would help him,
but he was gone off tp Edinburg; and so he found himself^ one day when
his money was all gone, wandering around the " dreary solitude " of Lon-
don— as Johnson delighted to characterize the dreadful hum of that
crowded city. He went by the church door in Foster Lane, where he heard
an organ playing. He stopped upon the threshold, and the pew-woman
told him what was going on, that the vestry were together testing the can-
didates for the post of organist He went in boldly ; asked if he might try*
He was told he could. He did He succeeded, got the pkice and a salary
of one hundred and fifty dollars a year. So much for the musical genius
he had cultivated in America, where wise people were telling him he
had better leave off serenading girls at night, (for be used to do such
things ; the lady of a British officer in Newpott told Trumbull that he
spent the last night he passed in Newport under the window of a friend of
her's, playing the lute,) and go to work. It gave him bread now in the
wilderness of London, where he needed nothing else."
Nothing good or beautiful, I say, was ever done amiss, though done only
for puce pleasure's sake. SoBiETHiNQ will come of it : something
"practical."
Rehabilitation. — [Dr. Gumming, of London, the Second Advent
preacher, apologises for Cain, because he could never have seen a dead
human being, known anything about death, or that a blow might destroy
vitality ; so that his guilt was only manslaughter.]
If Gumming thus can overrule the Lord,
Where are the books and all that they record?
Surely will Cain transported be hereafter ;
For him, manslaughter; for his judge, man's laughter.
. But Gumming, from the Ghurch, for all his pain ^
Will get transferred to him the mark of Gain.
Meantime Truth says to each and every girder.
The Letter kills ! And that's the worst of murder.
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A WHITSUNTIDE WREATH.
BY MONCURB D. CONWAY.
'T^HE French Emperor in the new volume of his " Life of Caesar" shows
^ me a probability that out here on Wimbledon Common, where I has-
ten with each returning Spring, Caesar marched after his first landing in Brit*
ain, and that these old trenches around our vine-covered cottage mark where
his first great battle was fought Csesar is dead ; Vercingetorix is dead ;
the Roman d3masty in Britain is dead. But the nightingales which sang
those soldiers in their tents to sleep so many thousands of years 9gOf last
night sang me to sleep, and this nooming the same sunshine sofUy unsealed
my eyes, and the same vocal sunshine (that of the larks) my ears, which
unsealed those who rest in nameless graves beneath the grass and flowers,
which also bloom to-day as then. For diose men with their ambitioiift and
their aims there was no immortality on earth ; but as I stroll over this
Common, and to the Thames, and on its banks, there are the very same
beauties blooming below, soaring, singing above which bloomed of okL
Nay, the warriors did not even live in the gardens of poets, but every flower
and bird blooms or sings there. How thrilling is it to walk these fields
and river-banks and feel that one is seeing the very daffodils, daisies^ and
violets, and listening to the very larks and cuckoos and nightingales, which
the blessed bards looked on and wove into the divine sky-tinted gauze with
which they have invested this old island— which with all her faults the lover
of poetry must love still ! As I lately strolled beside the Thames and saw two
lovely swans softly floating out below Hampton Court, and near by a group
of girls gathering flowers^ I felt as if Spenser might have been the very
coinage of that scene, and might be a spirit yet hovering over it Perhaps
on that mossy rock there he sat and wrote : — *
"There in a meadow by the river's side
A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy,
All lovely daughters of the flood thereby. . . .
Of every sort which in that meadow grew
They gathered some; the violet, pallid blue,
The little daisy that at evening closes,
The virgin lily and the primrose true. . . .
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
With that I saw two swans of goodly hue
Come softly swimming down the lee;
Two fiiirer birds I yet did never see;
The snow which doth the t<^ of Pindus strow
Did never whiter show.**
I veer a little, entering a pleasant grove where the birds are lustily re-
hearsing the same old madrigal which some hundreds of years ago Nash,
walking here, heard them at, and caught in the springes of a lyric : —
/'Spring, the sweet Sprin^^ is the year's pleasant King;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
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A Whitsuntide Wreath. 423^
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! "
And was it not this very morning that old Dnimmond of Hawthomden saw
** ensaflBroning sea and air " ? Was it not here that the Passionate Shepherd
promised his love
A cap of flowers, and a klrtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle"?
And. may not he have wandered hither, the great unrecognized one, — un-
recognized even by himselfi — from the great city lonelier to him than the
fields ? Never see I a lark rising from its nest in the lowly gorse, and
ascending slowly — straightly (as if on a sunbeam ladder) — showering
back such sounds as sparkling dew-drops and the eyes of infants might
yield had they voices, — ever upward until it has become against the blue a
quivering visible trill of music, —-but I remember what it sang to Shakes-
peare:—
'* Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee — and then my state.
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earthy sings hymns at heaven's gate."
-^ The successors, imitators, biographers, of the Caesars, of tyrants, of
mean self-seekers, are about as ugly to-day as ever. They do not improve
under close observation in point of time. Bismark, Victor Emmanuel,
Louis Napoleon, Andy Johnson are not lovely beings too look upon. It is
not lovely to see America crouching under ex-slavemasters, and trying to
defraud the lowly. And one sometimes goes to bed listening to Philomel
with her breast against a thom^ when her burden seems to be that of
Bacon : —
"Wars with their ncHse affiright ns; when they cease.
We are worse in peace; —
What then remains, but that we still should cry
For being bom, or, being bom, to die?"
But in the morning there are the nameless unmarked graves of dead ambi*
tlons beneath the living scented grass ; there are the moss-conquered con-
querors; and the lark sings on over them — as will the thrush and the
robin one day sing over our forgotten graves of wrongs and wrong-doers in
America. Human hearts will aha beat for justice, and aspire to noble
ideals, instead of meannesses and cruelties. And so : — ^
" Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me.
And tune his merry note
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^28 * The Radical.
Unto the sweet bird's throat —
Come hither, come hither, come hither I
Here shall we see
No enemy, — ^
no, not even " winter and rough weather," which are no enemies but firiends,
— Will Shakespeare to the contrary, notwithstanding.
What a pity our mornings will not last * Stay, thou art fiwr ! ' In vain.
No flower more surely fades than that superb daily dawn-bloom of the East
which ill things greet And, forsooth, every minor bloom must ape that
Auroral one, and expand or close as it comes or goes. " How well, " — so
sings Marvell : —
" How well the skilful gardener drew
Of flowers and herbs this dial new I
Where, from above, the milder ton
Does through a fragrant Zodiac run ;
And as it works the industrious bee
Computes its time as well as we,
And could such sweet and wholsome hours,
Be reckoned, but with herbs and flowers I "
Well did the ancients deify the Sun : are not all things made in his image
and 'likeness, are not all living things less or larger sunlets ? — as apple-
blossoms, butterflies, stars ? Or say some great and just cause climbs the
horizon : is it not a sun ? No man can truly and deeply And joy except
directly, or indirectly from that light In its waxing its rays organize them-
selves into a myriad of beings and appliances. Men mark their lives and
the life of their generation by it as a dial ; by the old errors and wrongs
closing, by the truths unfolding in fair growths and victories. Chaos with-
ering like a weed. Paradise opening ; every age has seen this repeated, but
few have perceived it Let us take courage — so far as is permitted those
who must work desperately. Sometimes — in remembering how Nature
refuses to repeat herselfl Thomas Paine told the parsons that he had just
been through their sacred grove and cut down many of their trees ; " you
may,*' he said, " and doubtless will, go and stick them in the ground again,
and try and make people believe that they are growing because they are
yet green ; but they will never grow again." P#or Milton groaned when he
» saw the baubles and follies of royalty apparently brought back again from
where Cromwell had driven them ; De TocquevUle saw the empire fastened
upon his country after the great earthquake in Paris which seemed to
swallow it up ; and I fear that Wendell Phillips may yet see Slavery en*
throned at Washington. But it will be only the wraith of the thing that
is ever seen thus: things — especially bad things, can never really be
got back where they were before. The Restoration which Milton saw was
no restoration at all, but the phantom of one. We know that this is so
with the things we love and would fain recall ; let not our weak friitfa
ascribe a greater permanence or vitality to things foul than to things fair.
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Tlie Boston Revival. 429
Ferms beautiful and true can survive only by resurrectioh in higher
forms ; but there is no downward, no infernal resurrection. The wages of
sin is — DEATH.
"Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust."
London, May, i866.
THE BOSTON REVIVAL, AND ITS LEADER.-
BY CHARLKS K. WHIPPLE.
rj AVING, in former years, had experience of the method of commencing
^ and conducting " revivals " in six different towns in this State, and
seeing, near the beginning of the present year, that preparations were
making to produce one on a very large scale in Boston, I thought it worth
while to spend some time in observing the movements preparatory to it,
taking note of the machinery employed in it, marking the successive stages
of its development, and examining the character and tendency of such re-
sults as should appear from it In particular I wished to learn these two
things, namely: whether the leaders would keep themselves within the
bounds of truth and honesty in the various steps of this great effort to draw
people into their churches ; a^d whether any result attained would exceed
what might reasonably be expected from the character and amount of the
human machinery set in operation. It is to the results of this investigation
that I now ask attention.
At or before the beginning of the present year, Dr. Nehemiah Adams
b^;an a series of " revival measures " at his church in Essex street, in this
cily. Extra prayer-meetings were held, special sermons preached, printed
invitations sent to outside sinners to walk in and be provided for. The re-
sults of these measures were so very moderate, that greater efforts and new
coadjutors were foimd necessary. So, on the 19th of January, a Council of
the Orthodox Congregational churches of Boston was called by Dr. Adams
and his church, and invited to assemble in the Essex street meeting-house
and advise what measiures should next be taken.
The problem seemed not an easy one, since it- was only at the third ad-
journed meeting that a plan of action was adopted by the Reverends and ^
laymen of the Council. They, however, showed themselves skilful and
practical men, since after long discussions, the elaborate report of a com-
mittee, and the pruning of that report by the sagacious managers assenv*
bled, it was unanimously agreed among them that tAe tools must be sharp*
ened.
The first measure proposed by the Council for getting the instruments
of revivalism into working order was, a "renewal of covenant" by the
members of each church concerned, after the preaching of appropriate
sermons by their ministers. The second was that, immediately after
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this manipulation (that is, on the evening of the third Sunday in MaqrbX
there should be " united communion services " in the Park street meetiiig-
house, that the work already done might be fortified. The third was that
addresses written by the ministers of the churches concerned should be
printed and circulated among the church-members, plainly setting befiore
them " the means through which we hope for a renewal of the work of the
Holy Spirit among us." Eleven subjects for these addresses are specified.
Next among the recommendations of the Council came " Observance of
the Sabbath." They were convinced ** that the services of the Lord's day
ought to be considered supreme above all other times and means of grace,"
and they earnestly urged attendance •^on both the services usually held "—
a duty which they declared to be too much neglected by church-members
as well as others.
Fifth, the Council recommended to the pastors great plainness and dis-
tinctness in preaching upon what they called the " primal truths of God^s
Word," namely : " Man's total alienation from God ; His divine justice in
the eternal punishment of the wicked ; the new birth ; salvation through
faith in Christ"
Chief among the remaining recommendations of the Council were the
following : co-operation between different churches by union prayernneel-
ings ; an increase in the number of social prayer-meetings heki by each
church for itself; a systematic visitation of die members of each chinch by
'* competent and experienced Christians ;" a cooperation of all the chnrcfaes
with whichever one of them may appoint *' protracted meetings ;" the use
of the Sabbath School ^ as a means of drawing children and others into the
services of the sanctuary ;" the use of lay pre«:her8 '< under the supervtekto
and with the co-operation of the pastor ; " and, finally, the diligent prosecm-
tion of a work already hi progress, namely, the apportionment of tiie city
into districts, and the assignment of a district to each church for its reli|^ous
care, by which '* the religious condition of every fiunily should be knowa,
and not a child unconnected with any Sabbath School should remain un-
sought"
A trial was then made, for several weeks, of diligent use of the measnres
above indicated. But, the results continumg small and unsatisfactory,
though three months had elapsed since Dr. Adams's preparations were be-
gun, and though, during the latter part of that time, the effi>rts of all the Or-
thodox Congregational ministers and churches of Boston had been concen-
trated on the work — it was decided to call in the aid of a professional " ex-
pert," and Rev. A. B. Earle, an experienced **revivaKst," was desired to
take charge of the movement This he did with great zeal and vigor,
audit must be acknowledged, with very great skill He had, besides the
reputation of twenty years successful management of this sort of work, the
prestige of a very great revival just carried through in Chelsea ; and his
competence for the engineering department, the work of direction and per-
suasion, was so manifest, that sundry of those who had hitherto been prom-
inent leaders, lay and clerical, imme^ately grouped themselves around him,
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The Boston Revival. 431
followed his lead, gave him the advantage of their hearty cooperation, and
seemed to rely upon his preaching, and praying as chief among the move*
ments of the campaign.
Still another advantage was gained by giving this person the leadership,
because, bein^ a Baptist, he could bring the Baptist churches and clergy to
co-operate in the movement And he not only did so, but took advantage
of this unwonted combination to represent, with lawyer-like ingenuity, that
this was not a " sectarian " movement As if a temporary union of two like-
minded sects in an effort to bring grist into the mills of both, and a tempo-
rary avoidance (for the purpose of success in this combination) of contro-
versy in regard to the single point on which they differ, could take them out
of the category of sectarianism 1 Never were the vices and evils of sectari-
anism more manifest than in the group di sects that have associated them-
selves under the self-assumed epithet '* Evangelical'' Their action, bodi
separate and combined, forms one of the greatest obstacles to the diffusion
of true dristianity.
The prominent characteristics of Mr. Earle's method in revival meetings
are the^following : —
1. His first point is seriously to alarm his hearers, alike in his exhorta-
tions and prayers, leading them to believe that God is dangerous to them,
that their or(^nary course of life is a progress towards hell, that sudden
death would hopelessly doom them to everlasting burnings, and that, even
before death, they may at iny time commit " the unpardonable sin," and
thus be condemned, while yet in life and health. He gives harrowing illus-
trations of the despair of some who have supposed themselves thus doomed^
and reminds his hearers that some among them may perhaps be examples
of that terrible fate, if they do not at once secure themselves from it Of
these various assumptions he speaks as if they were certain and unques-
tionable truths.
2. His statement of the method of escaping these dangers, of obtaining
insurance against the fire of beU, and securing immediately a through ticktt
for heaven, consists merely of the following formula : — " Give yourself to
Jesus, now, just as you are." Whatever this may mean, the sincere doing
of it is represented as sufficient and decisive. At least, this is the first rep-
resentation, when the address is to new comers who are to be persuaded to
take the first step.
3. He makes incessant and importunate appeals to God for immediate
results, znd great results, of the labors now in progress. On this point his
petition is made in one or the other of these two formulas ; he asks God to
" open the windows of heaven," (a distant place where He habitually dwells)
*'juid pour out a blessing" — or else to "come" from that distant place,
and " manifest his power " in the room where the petition is made ; and in
either case, he importunately urges that this prayer be answered now, now,
NOW ; in this very hour ; before this meeting shall separate ; and he uiges
also that sl great blessing be given ; that all the churches may be enlai]ged ;
and that Boston may be shaken by a revival greater than any ever yet
known here.
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432 The Radical.
4. Equally urgent appeal is made to those of his hearers who have not
yet " given themselves to Jesus " to make that surrender now, runv^ now.
He importunes them for an immediate decision. Will they give themselves
to Jesus, and give themselves nowf These are the only questions. In
the old-fashioned revivals (with which the writer has been very intimately
acquainted) the processes of conviction of sin, repentance for sin, and con-
version to holiness were accurately described, strongly insisted on, and
declared each to be indispensable. But, after having heard Mr. Earle in a
dozen meetings, of various sorts, I recall no instance of his using the zt^&rd
repentance, or alluding to the thing. The purport of his counsel I under-
stand to have been that the sinner need not trouble himself about his sins ;
Jesus would take care of them ; all he has got to do is to '' give himself to
Jesus."
But why should the hearer take the counsel of this stranger, Mr. Earle,
of whom perhaps he never heard before ? My next item will give the
answer to this question.
5. Throughout Mr. Earle's exhortations and addresses are scattered
numerous scraps of incidental evidence implying that he enjoys a very rare
and remarkable intimacy with God, and that he has great power with Him.
Mr. Earle's prayers, according to his own account, have been frequently and
extraordinarily successful in obtaining the blessings asked, in the absence
of all external indications that success might be expected. He quotes very
numerous instances — not in one mass of evidence, as if he sought to claim
and prove the power in question, but individually, and as if each case were
naturally recalled to his mind by the topic in hand — of persons who.came
to him after long seeking relief from various other sources, and in so many
minutes, or hours, or days, obtained at once present comfort and the as-
surance of salvation. These alone — naturally and skilfully introduced as
they are, with references to place and date, and graphic touches of descrip-
tion of the person benefited, (a lawyer, a business-man, a wealthy and
fashionable lady, a poor woman whose husband was at sea, &c., &a,) —
would be likely to give his patients the needful trust in his power to bring
their cases also to a happy termination. But this is not alL Mr. Earle has
minute knowledge (and knowledge which could only have come fh>m
special Divine communication) of what has been and is going on in heaven
and hell. Speaking of the danger of disobeying God, he said — " When
the angels ran up the rebel flag in heaven, God immediately put them in
chains, millions of them, and threw them over the battlements, and they
remain still chained, in hell." Speaking of the feelings of the angels at the
time of the crucifixion of Jesus, he said — " From Friday noon to Sunday,
morning not a note was sung in heaven ! All the golden harps were silent ! "
Speaking of the sort of prayers that needed to be offered, he said — " Cold
prayers won't do. It is only fervent, agonizing prayers that go up into the
golden vials, from which the blessing is to be poured out We cannot hope
for a revival here unless Christians are in ah agony. The golden vials are
not yet ready 1 " — Again, speaking of the preparation made in heaven for
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The Boston Revival. 433
any who had given themselves to Jesus during the prayer which he was
then- offering, he said — " The spotless robe is all done up now, ready for
their acceptance ? "
But this is not all the evidence of M^. Earle's Divine commission, and of
his competence to be a spiritual director. He holds long conversations
with God, and with Jesus, (who to him is God,) some of which he minutely
reports to his audiences. Two or three times during my attendance on his
services he announced that he had changed, in obedience to Heavenly
direction, the sermon which he had intended to give that day. One morn-
ing when he had severely rebuked the ministers, deacons and church mem-
bers present, on account of what he stigmatized as the coldness of their
prayers, (though to do those brethren justice, I had never heard more fer-
vent petitions in any successful revival than the ones so stigmatized,) he
said — "I have changed the sermon to-day, because Christ sends ward
that we are to send him agonizing prayers." On another occasion, encour-
aging his audience confidently to expect now that " opening of the windows
of heaven " for which they weit about to pray, he said — " While I was on
my knees in my room this morning, Jesus promised me that he would grant
the prayers next to be offered in Park St Church ! " Again, in one of the
long conversations which he declares himself to hold with God, and which
he reports minutely to some of his audiences, (adding that this particular
interview had shown him an unsuspected amount of " rebellion " existing in
his own heart,) — God put the question to him whether he would consent
to go beyond the distant Western point where he was then laboring, and
never return home, and never see his wife again in this world ? After
hesitating, and being severely rebuked for hesitation, he consented to this
sacrifice. Then the same demand was made in regard to the oldest of his
children ; then to the second ; then to the third ; then to the fourth ; then
to the fifth, the youngest, the most cherished. He decribes at length his
agonizing pleas that the sight of one of these cherished ones might be
granted him. In vain I After a terrible struggle, he succeeded in over-
coming his parental as well as his conjugal affections? and consented never
to live with, or even to see, wife or child again. And this he seriously rep-
resents as a triumph of faith on his part, and as a means of bringing him
into a higher state of religious peace I Thus, and through the results of
other such interviews, he became entitled to the fulfilment of the promises
made to £uth. The advantage, then, of asking his prayers, and following
his directions, is obvious.
It should be said here, to prevent misconception, that none of these things
are said in a boastfU manner. Mr. Earle seems neither to be a vain man,
nor to be uplifted in spirit by intimacy with the Divinity exactly such as
the Old Testament claims for Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Joshua and Elijah.
He seems to use these amaring pretensions not for vain glory, but merely
with skilful adaptation of means to an end, namely, to draw more of his
hearers under " revival " influence.
6. When, by these means and others, Mr. Earle has excited, in an in*^
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434 * "^^^ Radical.
tease degree^ the confidence of a portion of the audience in his sldB aad
trnstworthiness, the wisdom of fc^owing hie directions, and the safety cf
joining the side on which he is — he proceeds to demand of the persons
th«8 magnetised some present open manifestatjon of their feelingB, or
wiftheft, or intentions. Hating attracted, or excited, or alarmed, <Mr od>«r-
wise influenced them, the nesct great point is to induce them to *^ coaamk
themselves " bdbie the audience. It is not enough that God knows their
relation to Hinu The managers of the ^ revival " must know their rekUkMi
to ikm^/ And in his direction of this port of the business, as much an in
any part, Mr. Earie shows the masterly skill which he has attained.
His method is to arrange the successicm of his calls for open manifest-
tiOQ of feeling before the audience in such manner as to produce, in case of
success, a cumulative and imposing demonstration, or, in case of fiulnrey to
cover it with the appearance of success. This will be seen to be ^ways
feasible if we remember that these revival audiences always consist, in
great part, of church members and officers, pledged to do their part to-
wards the promotion of the revival, and sttmding ready to second any mo*
tion of its leader.
The great object is to gain new converts to be made members of the
chxnxhes. One of the tracts above mentioned as prepared for the use of
this Boston revival is entitied, <* The duty of Christians to unite with some
Church, and the dnty of Church members to unite with the Church where
they statedly worship." But, before they can join the church, they must
pass through its prescribed transformation, and conform themsdves to its
creed and its customs. So, in the early stages of a revival, when a partio-
ular audience has become ripe for manifesUUm^ the chief desire of the
leaders is to call forth from outsklers requests for prayers for themstlv€s»
'* Are there any here who, feeling their need of a Saviour, wish to ask the
prayers of Christians ?" inquires Mr. Earle ; and then he continues -^ ** I
imnt to go down now and kneel before the pulpit ; let all diose who
really feel the need of prayer for their souls' salvation come forward and
kneel with me." If this appeal^ repeated in varied terms, is unsuccess6il,
he tries the next grade of impressibility. '< Will any of you who desire
prayer stand up in your places, and show> before God and man, tlrat yon
are in earnest in seeking salvation ? Let any one who feels this desire rise,
either on the floor or in the gallery ! " If various appeals of this sort bring
no one up, and the thing seems, for the present, to be a failure, Mr. Eade
fells back upon his reserved body, and asks — " If there is any Ckristimm
here who does not have access to the throne, who feels himself in a cold,
declining state, will he now make request for the prayers of God's people ?"
If this appeal, repeated and varied, calls forth i«> response, the next one is
sure to bring some answers. " Does any Christian desire to present for
prayer the case of an unconverted relative or friend ? Is no one here so
interested for a son or a daughter, a husband or a brother, as to ask prayein
for their salvation ? " This appeal; which the practiced revivalist knows ho*
to make very moving, calls up some of &e female church membess, (who
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The Boston Revival. 455
ccMistitate from three-quarters to nine-tentfas of the m^ethigs prelhninary to
a revival,) and the desired point of manifestation is gained for that tkne,
while the prayers which kXiom are so expressed as to make the unconverted
ones who did not rise feel as if they may have lost their kst chance of sal-
vation, and bring them nei^er to the point of rising, oft even kneeling, in
&e next meeting.
In the later meetkigs, after some converts are known to have been se-
cured, the production of these impressive scenes of manifestation is com-
paratively easy. These new proselytes are as clay in the hand^ of the
potter, and are happy to be made use of in forwarding what they rei^
think to be God*s work. They rise, and come forward, and kneel, and tes-
tify, exactly as prompted by the leader, or, tf any hesitation appears, he
speedily brings them up by the sarcasm — " Those who are ashamed of
Jesus need not come I If there is a single soul here ashamed of Christ, let
him keep his seat ! ''
The most effective of Mr. Earless manifostadon movements is kneeling.
At the commencement of a series of revival meetings he introduces the sub-
ject by saying that, in one point of view, the position of thef body \a immar
teria( in the sight of God, and yet the attitude of humility must be consid-
ered best Moreover, he has always observed that the truly devout spirit
** wishes to get down low before God." He himself ah^ays Jcneels in prayer,
and makes special efibrts to get the co-operating ministers, and deacons,
and " brethren " to kneel around him. This not only makes an impressive
spectacle at the time, but it smooths the way for the young converts, of
whom the same demonstration is soon to be as^d. All who are interested
are desired to " come forward " and kneel Ke fills, if possible, the space in
front of the pulpit with kneeling persons ; ** inquirers," if so many can be
brought forward — then converts — then persons who feel some desfre, any,
the least desire to become Christians. When the space around him is
fiUed thus, he desbes others to come to the front part of the aisles and
kneel — he urges the occupants of the gallery to come down to the floor and
kneel — those that are not ashamed of Jesus — and, having secured as many
as possible by these methods, which he dictates in a very delibefate man-
ner, announcing the numbers who answer his call as they appear, he finally
requests all the remaining occupants of the house to Imed in thdr pews,
and commences his prayer.
Mr. Earle said in ^ark Street church on tike first day of May, '' I have
lately been reading much of the New Testament^?^ my knees j and I mean
to read the whole of it so, if God spares my life long enough." On another
occasion he exhibited ta the audience a Httle manuscript book, which he
called his Consecration-book." In it, many years ^o, he had written, on
his kneesj a renewed consecration of Inmself to God. But the influence not
lasting as he had expected, he felt obliged in time to repeat the performance,
writing and sigmng it again on his knees. To shorten the story which he
told at consklerable length, he had found it necessary to try this method of
sel^ortification no less than twenty-seven times, so much ^ rebellion " still
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436 - The Radical.
remained in his heart Perhaps it is quite as weU that he should noi find
peace and rest through such processes. Perhaps he might advantageously
try a discontinuance of the attempt to manu&cture new duties, and a|^y
himself to the performance of the duties which God has appointed.
7. There appeared incidentally, in the course of Mr. Earle's exhorta-
tions, a very remarkable obtuseness, or rather insensibility, on his part, to
moral distinctions — the difference between ^ruth and falsehood — the dif-
ference between right and wrong. Not only did he make, very freelj, the
pretences above alluded to of special direction from Jesus in the manage-
ment of his meetings — not only did he constantly make the other false as-
sertions which ministers of his sect (and his group of sects) are accustomed
to make, such as that God said whatever this, that or the other writer in
Old or New Testament wrote — but I noticed that, when he was relating
his deliberate pledge to abandon his wife and children, he seemed not to
have the slightest idea, either that he was thereby violating real duties —
duties that the true God had certainly imposed on him — or that the stroi^
impression which had led his mind in that direction was a morbid, errone-
ous and delusive one. He seemed not once to have thought, either that it
is impossible for God to contradict himself and undo his own work, or
(looking at tht matter comparatively) that mistake on the part of himself a
fallible mortal, was infinitely more probable than that Gdd should give a
special command la direct opposition to his general command.
In Mr. Earle's scriptural readings, in the passages of the Bible which he '
selected as containing models for the imitation of his hearers, Uie same pe-
culiarity appeared. One of his favorite passages is the parable of '^ the
unjust judge." One of the most constant expectations that he holds out is
that petitioners may teaze God into compliance by importunity, as the
woman in Scripture did the unjust }Md%^ He said : '^ God's way is to put
you off as long as possible, until you let him know that you must have help,
that you are determined to gain a bltssing." It seems never to have oc-
curred to him, either that this representation is unjust to the true God, the
Heavenly Father, or that an ignorant and fiUlible being had better not m-
sist upon particular requests while addressing the All-wise and Infallible.
'< Thy will be done," is worth all the dictatory and mandatory prayers that
revivalists ever puffed upward.
Two of Mr. Earle's favorite passages of the Bible, read to prepare for
the inculcation of "self-consecration " and of " fiaith,." are the narratives <tf
the unprovoked killing, by the children of Levi, of three thousand of then*
Hebrew brethren, on the representation of Moses that God commanded it,
and of the marauding expedition of the Hebrew host against Jericho, un-
dertaken for the express purpose of killing every living thing in that city,
<< both man and woman, young and old, and ox, sheep and ass, with the
edge of the sword," on the representation of Joshua that God commanded
it The former of these transactions is related as follows :
<* Then Moses stood in the gate of the camp, and said, Who £r on the
Lord's side ? Let him come unto me. And all the sons of Levi gathered
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The Boston Revival. - 437
tiiemselves together unto him. And he said unto them, Thus saith the
Lord God of Israel, Put every man kis sword by his side, and go in and
out from gate to gate throughout the camp, and sla> every man his brother,
and every man his companion, and every man his neighbor. And the chil-
dren of Levi did according to the word of Moses : and there fell of the
people that day about three thousand men. For Moses had said, Conse-
crate yourselves to-day to the Lord, even every man upon his son and upon
his brother ; that he may bestow upon you a blessing this day."
Mr. Earle seems a kind-hearted man, and teaches that men in these days
should treat each other kindly, even in case of the extremest diversity of
religious opinion and practice, as if he thought that (P^ would have them
act thus. But, in reading the barbarous command and the barbarous exe-
cution of it above quoted, resulting solely from a difference of religious
opim'on and practice, he not only seemed utterly unconscious of the truth
that such orders could not have come from the true God, but he dwelt upon
the details with deliberate emphasis, adding, at the close of that record of
ferocious slaughter — " This was the consecration I "
I have said above that Mr. Earle represents to his hearers that he holds
a convetsational intimacy with the Deity, exactly such as the Old Testa-
ment claims for Abraham, Jacob, Moses, Joshua and Elijah. Suppose he
should go a step further. Suppose he should tell an individual convert
that Jehovah commands him, as an evidence of faith and obedience, to cut
the throat of his only son ! Suppose he should tell the whole body of his
converts in Park St church that Jehovah commands them to take, each
man, such weapons as he possesses, and go out and '' consecrate them-
selves " upon such Unitarians, and Universalists, and Spiritualists as they
might meet in the streets of Boston, to the number of three thousand !
They would utterly refiise, in spite of the example of similar consecration^
for a similar diversity of religious belief and practice, read to them from the
Old Testament as the positive command of the same Jehovah. The cus-
toms of Park street do not go so far as that When, on the afternoon of
Saturday, March 6th, 1858, in the course of a revival engineered by Mr.
Finney, about forty persons assembled in Park St vestry to pray that God
would " remove " Theodore Parker out of the way — or else " send con-
fusion and distraction into his study " — or else '^ confound him, so that he
shall not be able to speak " when he next entered the pulpit — probably no
one of those devout imprecators thought of '' consecrating himself" upon
Mr. Parker by smiting him under the fiflh rib. Times have changed very
much since the Old Testament times. But my point is that, if Mr. Earle
had chosen to make such a statement, his Park St converts would have
had precisely the same reason for literal obedience as the Hebrews had for
obe)ring the command of Joshua. Are we to do a cruel, a barbarous, an
atrociously wicked thing, because a person in whom we have full confidence
declares that God commands it ? The Hebrews voted " yes," and did it,
though some of them probably felt a sensation of repugnance while butch-
ering the little babies of Jericho and their mothers. The people of Park
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438 The Radical.
St would vote '' no," even if Mr. Earle should declare that God
manded a similar " consecration " on their part They would doubt even
Mr. Earle first Yet strange to say, not one of them even begins to sus-
pect that the Hebrews ought to have doubted Joshua ! The rectitude of
that transaction must be swallowed whole, without question I Is it not in
the Bible ?
The Boston revival seems now» May 22df to be dwindling away, this re-
sult having begun to appear very shortly after the retirement of Mr. Earle,
whose physical strength has suffered from his inde&tigable. labors. His
vigor and skill, and readiness of resource, and unflinching determination,
^ere help in time of need to the Boston ministers.
'*One blast upon his bugle horn.
Were worth a thousand men."
They will probably have him here again as soon as his health will aDow.
But, whether he returns or not, considerable additions to the churches may
be expected for some time to come, not only because even the gleaning is
rich after such a reaper, but because fiu- greater results than have yet ap-
peared must be expected as the natural fruit of three months' labor by so
very large a force as that here employed. When thirteen other Orthodox
Congregational churches combined themselves with Dr. Adams's church
for the express purpose of undertaking this work, (aU " renewing their
church covenant," in the hope of giving the movement greater efficiency,)
this represented (if we take the average church membership as 300,) 4,200
persons. The addition of four Baptist churches on the coming of Mr.
Earle, would swell this number to 5,400. Even if we suppose half of these
un£uthfril or otherwise ineffective, there will still remain 2,700 active work-
ers, plying with solicitadons all those among their families, neighbors,
friends, and business acquaintances, who are out of the church, and per-
suading them, as £ut as possible, to go where the ministers and deacons
will have a fair chance at them. If we remember that all the attendants on
Orthodox churches have had a foundation laid in their minds, frt)m tiieir
earliest childhood, adapted to make such solicitations as these effective, we
shall see that very large results may be expected, as a matter of course, to
follow the labors of so many and such enthusiastic workers, directed by the
most skilful leaders, and extended over go long a period of time. If this
vast force could be so enlightened as to teach true religion apart from su-
perstition— if tiiey would propagate that genuine Gospel which Jesus
summed up as consisting of love to God and love to man, instead of follow-
ing the traditions of the elders — if they would diffuse the knowledge of a
God worthy of love and obedience, always present and always accessible
to every human being, and requiring no intermediate functionary to intro-
duce to Him His own children, and to prevail on him by intercessions to at-
tend to the wants of the immortal souls which He created — they might do
a work really beneficent and valuable. Their actual work, frx>m present
appearances, merits neither of these epithets, however earnest and sincere
may have been the purposes of the great majority of these laborers.
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SENTENCES OF JOUBERT.
BY JOSEPH MULVUr.
Questions show the volume of the mind, and answers the firmness.
There are minds which resemble convex or concave mirrors, which rep-
resent objects as they receive them, but which do not always receive them
as they are.
To hold ideas forcibly is nothing ; the essential thing is to have forcible
ideas ; that is to say, in which there is a great power of truth. Now, truth
and its forces do not depend at all upon the head. A man is often regarded
as able who holds head against objections ; but that is only the force of at-
titude. A blunt dart hurled by a strong hand can strike forcibly, because
it goes from body to body ; but strong lungs and obstinacy cannot give any
real efficacy to a feeble idea forcibly uttered, because mind only goes to
mind.
Unveracity of mind comes from insincerity of heart ; it proceeds from a
secret desire for a proper opinion, and not for the true opinion. An un-
truthful mind is untruthful in all things, as a squint eye always looks askew.
But one may be deceived one time, a hundred times, without having a
treacherous mind. It is only where the he^ is false that the mind be-
comes so.
There is a feebleness of body which proceeds from strength of mind, and
a feebleness of mind which comes of strength of body.
A mind has some force so long as it has the force to complain of its
weakness.
There is in certain minds a nucleus of error which attracts and assimi-
lates all to itsel£
Sometimes the greatest minds are nevertheless unreliable. They are
constructed much like the compass, but in which the needle, impaired by
the influence of some surrounding bodies, turns always to the north.
All legitimate authority ought to delight in its extent and in its limits.
To talk always of prosperity and of commerce, is to talk as a merchant
and not as a philosopher. To conduce only to the (pecuniary) enrichment
of the people, is to operate in finance and not in legislation.
As the barbarian sacrifices his subsistence to his appetite, the despot
sacrifices his interest to his power ; his reign devours the reign of his suc-
cessors.
The direction of the mind is more important than its progress.
Never cut what you can untie.
Virtue by calculation is the virtue of vice.
Incredulity is only a manner of deportment of the mind ; but irreligion
is a veritable vice of the heart it enters into the sentiment of honor for
that which is divine, of disdain for men, and of hatred for ami;>l !e simplicity.
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44<> The Radical.
The same conviction unites more men than equal learning ; this is wid»-
out doubt because convictions come from the heart
There is a great difference between credulity and feith ; the former is a
natural defect of the mind, the latter is a virtue ; the first is the effect of
extreme feebleness ; the second arises from a sweet and laudable docility,
entirely compatible with strength of mind, and which is indeed extremely
favorable to it
It is necessary to be religious with naive ti, abandon and bonhomie^ and
not with dignitddjid bon ton, gravely and mathematically.
TWO NATIONAL DREAMS.
THE abiding jealousy felt in England towards the United States has
many causes, some of them just, more perhaps unjust, but one of
them very strong and very little noticed. This is the difference in
the forecast which Englishmen and Americans make as to their own destiny.
Some cause, which is very difficult to trace, but which is possibly the ab-
sence of hereditary anxiety in America, has upon this point absolutely sep-
arated two people of the same blood and in most aspects strangely similar.
The Englishman, when he thinks at all upon the subject, is very apt to
forecast an unplJsasant future for his country, to believe the day will come
when it will be shut up in the ocean, or starved for want of com, or ruined
by the exhaustion of its coal, or deprived of its pre-eminence in manufiic-
tures, or in some way or other thrown back to a secondary rank. The
notion that his country has reached its zenith, and must from some cause
unknown recede, has for a century been constantly present to the English-
man's mind. The American, on the contrary, believes in a boundless future
almost visibly before him, is the happier for it and the stronger, accepts
children with greater readiness, meets the troubles, and especially the pe-
cuniary troubles of life, with greater ease and more perfect sangfroid.
Somebody, he thinks, will always be wanting something ; if he cannot grow
corn, he can make Lucifer matches, and in a short time " we shall be two
hundred millions. Sir, and the scream of the American eagle will drown all
the TV Deums of the Old World ; and two hundred millions. Sir, will offer
a market for lucifer matches wide as the universe, profitable as dealings in
petroleum oil. It is all so amazingly true, too. There is no vaster dream
dreamed on earth than that of these Americans, and yet it is all within the
limits of the possible. So far within them that its realization is more proba-
ble than its failure. Judging, as human beings are alone entitled to judge,
on the evidence, it is much more likely tj^n not that in 1966 the American
people will be one hundred and fifly millions, speaking one language, and
that English, and possessed of all the knowledge that language contains
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Two National Dreams. 441
with a country of all climates and all scenes, resources scarcely explored,
and an almost total freedom from phjrsical distress. Every race, cultiva-
tion, and capacity will be represented in its borders, and nearly every civil-
ization compatible with Republicanism and a very elastic Christianity. The
number of the States will be at least fifty, and in each a marked and pecul-
iar society will have been formed under the gradual operation of laws as
different as the marriage laws of Wisconsin and Vermont now are, and of
social systems as separate as those of Maryland and Massachusetts. Ex-
periments of the most gigantic character will have been tried to the full,
experiments as wild as the Western one of a nearly unlimited right of
divorce, or as those social schemes tried so often in Western New York, pr
as one idea, so precious to every Democratic mind, of dispensing with
every control save that of the parish constable. A hundred and fifty mil-
lions of men of all races and all instincts will be living together on one soil,
under all climates, and possessed of every gssource, coal, and iron, and
com, and wine, coal-fields so endless that even American lavishness cannot
waste them, iron-fields so vast that they will consume forests covering a
continent, corn-fields which will feed the world, and vineyards which even
now send their produce to the owners of Hermitage and Johannisberg.
There is no science such a race may not prosecute in peace for ages, no
form of literature it may not develope, no discovery possible to man it may
not hope to make. It will, without an effort, raise 300,000,000/. of revenue
by a taxation lower than that of England now is, and employ the whole, or
nearly the whole of it, in works of peace. Distress, or tumult, or resistance
to authority, or dread of freedom in its most unrestrained forms, will, says
the American, be as unknown in that land as ignorance or violent crime.
Every man will be secure in his home, every man equal, every man firee to
do whatsoever of good his hand can find, or his brain invent, or his heart
conceive. So great will be the love of the people for these institutions,
that the idea of attack will fade away, for what nation could dream of attack-
ing a country in which thirty millions of armed males, capable of becoming
soldiers in six weeks, .will perish rather than suffer menace, and will own
ships greater in number than those of the rest of the earth ? Yet so great
will be the content of this people, that Europe will pass on its way un-
harmed, unimpeded, and uncontrolled, save indeed, it may be, by an extorted
agreement that America shall alwa3rs be left open, a secure harbour of ref-
uge, the " shadow of a great rock " to the poor, and the miserable, and the
oppressed. To South and North alike the land will be open, and while the
Dane eaten out of his home may find in Maine a climate as rough, and
manners as kindly as his own, the Italian unable to prosper may grow Lac-
rima Christi on the slopes of Virginia, or renew the myrtles of Sicily by the
blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico. There is room for all and to spare, and
when the tale is complete, and Americans outnumber every white race,
there will stretch before them other territories to possess, lands more vast,
mountains more various, plains more rich, rivers still broader, cultivations
and possibilities of social life yet more multiform and great, for they may
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44^ X The Radical.
cross the Isthmus, fix a capital greater than Rome, at a spot where tfie
President can look from the White House upon two oceans, and stretch
away, pressing on in innumerable hordes, over the glorious wilderness of
Brazil, and the rich alluvium of the Amazon, mine the Andes, and fill those
wonderful plateaus where, as in Bogota, the apple and the pine-apple grow
side by side, and so spread slowly down away to the Antarctic Zone. The
half of earth will then be American, and the curse of divided language done
away ; and the human race, rid at last of physical misery, of war, of ine-
quality, and of the paralysis of powers produced by fears of each other, may
commence a career as new as that which began when man first instituted
marriage and discovered fire. It is a pleasant dream, one which makes
New England farmers better, and softer, and nobler amidst their sordid
cares ; and it is all possible, or at least conceivable. No Englishman with
an imagination denies that in his heart, or even doubts it, and it raises in
him, among other things, th«t fierce jealousy which broke out so strangely
during tiie recent civil war. He feels as if this structure thus visibly rising
to the stars casts a shadow over England, as if his own land were lost in
the haze around that coming Empire, as if he were dwarfed by the presence
of his mightier descendant He feels as a Jew might in the year 30, when,
conscious that he alone of mankind recognized the grand intellectual and
moral truths, he yet saw his country nominally independent, really but a
province of all-absorbing and luxurious Rome.
The bitterness is the greater because the Englishman, almost alone
among mankind, has neither past nor future, neither dwells on the glory of
his forefathers, nor looks forward with hope to his descendants. The
Scotch peasant remembers Bannockbum as if it were yesterday, the Rus-
sian moujik believes in the day when Holy Russia, mistress of Constantino-
ple, shall give the law to mankind. The average Englishman knows noth-
ing which happened before his £&ther, looks forward to nothing in which
his country will play a conspicuous part He has few national traditions,
and no national hopes. The educated German believes always in some
coming Utopia, when all men shall have leisure to enjoy, and Germany,
safe in her unity, shall plunge fearlessly into thought ; and the educated
Frenchman never wearies of the past of France ; but the educated English-
man only wonders how men endured lives so bad as those of his forefathers,
looks forward only to the time when the greatness of England shall have
passed away. Yet if he dreamed, as Americans dream, pleasant things,
and yet possible, the dream would not be an ignoble one. He might dream
of a little kingdom in a rough but healthy climate, cultivated like a garden,
in which a society of forty millions had been organized till it was as com-
pletely an entity as a human being, in which the slightest injury to the
meanest, was felt as the plucking of a hair in a strong man's beard. In that
land, so small and so cold, might exist a society coherent as the diamoncf,
but with color as infinitely varied, a table as bright, facets as definite and
as dissimilar — a society in which men rich as the old kings of the East,
realized a luxury more than Assyrian by the aid of arts more subtle than
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Two National Dreams. 443
those of Greece, yet shared every luxury and every art with the meanest of
those aiound them ; and in which workers, never poor to pinching, cordially
sided in producing the magnificence they freely enjoyed ; in which thought,
for the iirst time really free, for the first time spread among millions, would
strike out new literatiu-es and novel sciences, and add every day not only to
man's dominion over nature — it was a savage who first tortured earth into
multiplying seed com — but to man's capacity for living noble lives ; in
which so infinite would be the variety of position, and circumstance, and
workg that every capacity and every disposition should be able to put out
and profit by the full measure of its powers ; in which the latent use of all
forms of weakness should become visible, in which the virtues should be
able to act as motors, the passions be pruned down into energies. He
might dream of an England in which every man was educated and could
form an opinion for himself every man provided with means sufficient to
give his faculties scope, and every man able to rely on the aggregate force
of all for aid against nature, or time, or circumstance, as he now relies on it
against violent evil-doers ; an England in which Parliament should be the
brain^of a vast being, of a mimlcipality with a conscious life, guiding all men,
facilitating all measures, making enterprises easy which now seem impossible
or absurd. He might imagine England thus organized, thus throbbing with
many-colored life, ruling quietly over Southern Asia, breaking up sun-baked
civilizations, sowing the seeds of new life over half mankind, watering every
germ as it grew to maturity, and learning, as all great gardeners learn, to
recognize the beauty, and the meaning, and the use of things which seem
to the ignorant poisonous weeds. He might dream of an England which
had reconciled the great difficulties of mankind, absolute freedom with per-
fect organization, liberty with union, self-will with self-sacrifice, a State
which could act like a man, yet of which every citizen felt himself a free and
component part He might finally imagine an England not indeed as pow-
erful as the Union, but so devoted to independence, so scientifically organ-
ized, so finely and strongly welded into a weapon, with Anglo-Sax<m for
weight, Celt for edge, and Scotch for temper, that to attack it would be
simply to strike at a rapier with a crowbar, which- might destroy, but not in
time to prevent a mortal wound. Nothing in all that is impossible, once a
generation is fully educated, and we shall educate the next Rapid inter-
communication is already binding the nation into one great family, till a
hind cannot be horsewhipped on a remote moorland without a national roar
of anger, and the House of Commons becomes for all purposes the conseil
ddfamille. Let but the spirit of localism, or, as we call it self-government,
decay a little more, as it always does under education, and Eng^d will be
welded as we have described, will present such an aspect of variegated, bu^
not unhappy life.. This dream seems to us as bright as the other, though
not as vast, as the lawn may be as beautiful as a prairie, Windermere as
Erie, a garden as a wilderness of wild flowers. The element of vastness is
alone wanting, and we can find that in our purposes and our tropical pos-
sessions. Pallisy's life was noble, though the end of that toil and endeavour
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444 '^he Radical.
was only a pretty enamel ; and the work of Athens was vast, though she
never covered the space of the Duke of Sutherland's estate. All tjiat man
knows of the ideas which should regulate human organization was worked
out by a nation of less than 30,000 freemen, so worked out that Europe has
no words for policy save those the Athenians used, and in eighteen hun-
dred years has invented but one new political idea, the possibility of rule by
representation. Vastness is nothing, organization ever3rthing, the smallest
enity with life and potentalities greater and more than the biggest, if it pos-
sesses neither. Grand as the mountain is, as Kingsley puts it, and oppres-
sive to the spirit, men who could scarcely be seen on its side tunnel through
it at their leisure. But then we want the fixed idea that England, which
cannot be the mountain, is to be the man. — Spectator,
THE "POSITIVE POINT" OF UNITARIANISM.
npHE Unitarians held their usual series of meetings during anniversary
week in Boston, including their annual festival at Mui^ic Hall. It was
at this meeting on Thursday evening, after dinner, that Dr. Hedge made
what all agree to call a " Characteristic Speech." Dr. Hedge never fails
of saying somewhat, on all occasions, pleasing to both parties. He was
quite successful in taking his position on this occasion. He appeared as
interpreter of Unitarian history. Dr. Hedge seems to have won for himself,
(so it appears to an outsider,) among Unitarians generally, of both wings, a
certain position of authority. He exercises a " kind of authority " which is
not exactly " infallibility," nor is it the authority of Office. Indeed it is
difficult to say precisely what the nature of it is. But there is a feeling
that, in some way or other, in matters pertaining to the denominational
moraUy he knows the way out of the woods. He is skillful in seeming to
point out the agreements between the ^fijagreeing parties. Both sides, after
hearing him speak, or after reading his writings, are not quite sure they
don't agree with him ; and if with him^ then, after all, with each other. His
words have weight, and none feel quite sure that if they oppose Kim, they
shall not be in the wrong. Whether this be " authority " or " freedom,"
we do not pretend to say. On the occasion to which we have referred, Dr.
Hedge, reviewing the action of the Convention held in the city of New
York, a year ago, said "It was at that time an important question whether
the Unitarian body should organize on its negative point or its positive
point The Unitarian body, he had previously said, was composed of two
hundred and fifty religions. The two points on which they could agree
were now Orthodoxy (which was the negative point,) and the human nature
of Jesus, (which was the positive point) He then goes on to say, " It was
concluded finally, and / think wisely and well, that we should organize on
our positive point, on that type of doctrine which we express by the name
of Unitarianism, and I must say, notwithstanding the criticisms made at
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"Positive Point" of Unitarianism. 445
the time, since tlien^ and very recently, I thought^ on the whole, it was a
great felicity and a great success," Of course, neither wing of the Unita-
rian denomination will think of holding Dr. Hedge, in making this state-
ment, to the letter of historical accuracy. For everybody knows that the
Convention did not publicly declare any such purpose. It did not say that
it would organize by affirming the ^ human nature of Jesus." In calling
itself Unitarian, it may be said to have declared its opinion that Jesus was
not God, but we look in vain on its records for any language which may be
interpreted to mean that Jesus was a man. Therefore we insist that Dr.
Hedge must not be held to the letter, either of his text or of his discourse.
He must in some way be allowed the * freedom of the Spirit,* in interpreting
the proceedings of the Convention, and Unitarians must exercise the same
kind of freedom in their interpretations of him. This is absolutely neces-
sary in order to prevent confusion. Doubtless Dr. Hedge would explain
his words to mean simply, that so ^ as the Unitarian body had any signifi-
cance at all, it was by reason of its humanitarian tendencies^ and that in
persisting in maintaining its old antagonism to the trinity, it had, whether
wittingly or unwittingly it matters not, virtually put itself anew into a posi-
tion where it would logically have no alternative left it but to declare its
belief in the purely human nature of Jesus. His remarks were to be taken
not strictly as a narrative of the fiwrts of history, but as a bit of prophecy.
Dr. Clark has said, '' the essence of a great event is not in the thing done,
but in the power which is to do it" Dr. Hedge may claim, (we may sup-
pose,) that he saw in the Unitarian Convention at New York, " the power "
which was dumb behind the throne, but which must at length become vocaU
Yet still again he would have to distinguish between a conscious, premedi-
tated purpose, and a spiritual necessity of which the Convention, as a body
was not conscious. As in the war our " military necessities" forced us into
sajring and doing a great many good things, so the spiritual necessities of
the Unitarians — Dr. Hedge may be hopeful enough to believe — will force
them, at length, to take most radical and unequivocal positions.
Now this explanation, we can conceive, would be quite satisfactory to the
radical Unitarians, and no doubt it was a surmise of this kind that made
them appear to rather like his speech. And on the other hand, his decla-
ration that, in his judgment, the New York Convention acted wisely, and
that it organized on its positive point of Unitarianism^ we can conceive,
would be, on the whole, well received by the conservative Unitarians. And
they would not object either to the statement that the *' two hundred and
fifty congregations," (which became one body in l^ew York,) " thought it
important to emphasize the human nature of Christ, rather than the divine."
It was not impossible for this phrase to mean just what they could heartily
consent to. At all events, the "divine" nature is not disputed, but actually
implied ;' only, the importance of emphcLsixing the '^ divine" was less mani-
fest We do not feel quite sure that we have done Dr. Hedge full justice in
this attempt at interpreting his speech. It may turn out that we have not
fisdrly presented either the positive or negative points of it But it will be
conceded that the case is a somewhat difficult one. Editor.
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To THE Memory of Professor Mansfield,
QUESTIONING,
BY WILLIAM WIRT SIKXS.
T NTO the night I gaze with weaiy eyes ;
The black lake, stretching into murky space,
Lifts its dark waters like a sleeper's sighs ;
Far out, where from its gloom the winds arisen
Far out, I gaze and gaze, with pallid face.
Deadl He is dead I Never again to sit
Holding my hand, and reading me his heart
Dead 1 And this death ? What must I think of it ?
Where, when men's souls their mortal shackles split,
Pass they away? In what fate have they part?
Waters, oh waters, sighing in the night.
Symbol you Death, in darkness and unrest?
Winds, roaming far, with feet that ne'er alight,
Symbol you Death? Yon stars, that pale your light
Behind yon clouds that pall-hang all the West,
Symbol you Death, with light in shadow hid
With curtain broad? Come, answer me my quest;
Which of you symbols that which his soul rid
Of its mere clay ? Oh, these drear figures mid,
My heart aches wearily, and finds no rest
False are ye ali— dark night, pale stars, black waves !
Ye symbol Death I Read me no more that cheat 1
Death is a sleep. It deals with more than graves ;
Beautifiil sleep ! which all his best part saves.
And keeps for me till that day when we meet
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BOOK NOTICE.
An Examination of Mr. J. S. Mill's Philosophy : Being a Defense of
Fundamental Truth. By James M*Cosh, L. L. D., Professor, of Meta-
physic, Queen's College, Belfest, Author of " The Method of Divine
Government," " Intuitions of the Mind," etc New York : Robert Carter
& Brothers. 1866.
We opened this book with no very sanguine expectations of pleasure,
having an impression that the author, though a man of some reputation, is
primarily a theologian of the old school, and a metaphysician scarcely oth-
erwise than in the interest of his creed. British metaphysic is commonly
limited enough even when discussed with a pure interest ; bound before-
hand to determinate theological results, it could hardly be tolerable. The
beginning of the book, though agreeable reading enough, gave no decisive
token of power. And on the fortieth page were found a few words which
seemed quite discouraging. Dr. M'Cosh there permits himself to speak of
Spinoza as " ending in the bogs of a horrid pantheism." This appeared to
make it certain that he is one of those who, beyond a limited range, do their
thinking with the nose. Though no partizan of Spinoza, we could ill con-
ceive how any man capable of appreciating spiritual elevation, or moved by
a predominating sympathy with ideas, should vent upon him this common-
place cant of the pulpit
Yet the book utterly disappoints these evil prognostics. Though not to
be named a great thinker, Dr. M'Coeh is imquestionably an able man, fiiUy
competent to cope with Mr. Mill in metaphysical discussion, if not decid-
edly his superior, as we think he is. His Intelligence is perspicacious, his
judgment sound, and he writes in a style of perfect transparency, though of
some amplitude. The points which be makes a^nst Mr. Mill are exceed-
ingly well chosen ; and we do not find a single instance wherein he fails
either to carry his point perfectly, or at least to show that the doctrines he
Wassails must stand by new supports, if they stand at all.
He first takes issue with the other upon the origin of our ideas. Mr.
Mill, as is well known, traces these exclusively to sensation. His state-
ment is not merely that sensation is involved i£ all our thinking, but that
an idea is nothing but the sum total of many sensations linked together by
the principle of association. To be sure, in his last book he begins to
waver, and indeed makes special admissions which are wholly inconsistent
with this doctrine, but without abandoning the doctrine itselfl Dr. M'Cosh
shows this position to be not only ill-defended, but indefensible. On this
point his triumph is no less than complete. He makes it indubitable that
such a doctrine can be rendered plausible only by a wholesale system of
slipping in intuitive ideas without acknowledgment No one who has read
Mr. Mill's discussions with some closeness of scrutiny, can ^1 to have de-
tected this curious process ; and the clearness with which his critic exposes
it, must needs give such a reader satisfiu:tion.
Without leisure even to indicate the course and method of the discussiooi
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448 The Radical.
we cordially commend the work to all who find themselves interested in
such matters. The author sometimes misses his mark, and toward the
close of the book, where he approaches Theology, becomes equally limitrd
with his opponent, if not even more so. But in general his criticism merits
attention and respect, though he does not fairly break through the ordinaiy
limits of British metaphysic. His range of thought is not perhaps ampler
thandthat of Mr. Mill, but he is less hampered by a system, and is capable
of a nicer critical attention.
In one case he touches upon a point of great importance for his general
purpose, but slips past it without more than a casual remark — the funda-
mental relation, namely, of Belief to Knowledge. He finds Belief first of
all in Memory, where Mr. Mill also admits its presence. This is coming
hx short of the &ct It can easily be shown that Belief is the necessary
substratum, as it is the crown, of aU knowledge — that it is involved in or-
dinary perception, and indeed in everything which may be called mental
action. And an accurate exposition of this matter would deal a death-blow
to Positivism. D. A. w.
BOOKS RECEIVED.
Christ and the People. By A. B. Child, M. D., Boston : Adams & Co.
21 Bromfield St. 1866.
Woman's Dress ; its Moral and Physical Relations, being an Es-
say delivered before the World's Health Convention, New York city,
Nov. 1864. By Mrs. M. M. Jones. New York : Miller, Wood, & Co.,
15 Laight St 1865.
Alcoholic Medications By R. T. Trail, M. D., New York : Miller,
Wood & Co., 15 Laight St., 1866.
The Eastern, or Turkish Bath ; with its History, Revival in Britain,
and Application to the Purposes of Health. By Erasmus Wilson, F. R. S.
with notes and appendix by M. L. Holbrook, M. D., New York : Miller,
Wood & Co., 15 Laight St., 1866. -
The Toilers of. the Sea, A Novel by Victor Hugo, Author of ^Les
Miserables. " New York : Harper & Brothers, Publishers, Franklin
Square, 1866.
Ralph, and other Poems. By Henry L, Abbey.
Bondout Horatio Fowks. New York : N. Tibbets, 37 Park Row, 1865.
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THE RADICAL.
AUGUST, i86d.
THE RADICAL'S ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE BIBLE.
BY O. t. ntOTHINOHAH.
WHEN we were at the Divinity School in Cambridge, twenty
years ago, it was an accepted principle that the '' Bible was
to be read like any other book." The professor had the
.phrase continually on his lips, and we listened to it with entire acqui*
escence. Why not ? The books of the Bible were written in dead lan-
guages, but so were die Dialogue3 of Plato, the dramas of Sophocle3>
the cantos of the Iliad. Words were words, and we had plentiful assis-
tance by means of grammars and dictionaries, in jfinding out what the
words meant Words conveyed ideas ; but the ideas were as plainly
conveyed by these words as by other words which we were in the
habit of reading. The principle was so simple as to be self-evident ;
but it involved a position that was fundamentally opposed to the
faith of Christendom.
For in professing to read the Bible as we would read any other
book, we actually, though perhaps unconsciously, classed it among
other books ; we placed it in the Catalogue of Literature ; we ranked
it among the productions of the human mind ; we admitted the mind's
capacity to understand ^ by natural effort ; and in admitting that, we
admitted the mind's competency to judge it by its own rational sta^*
dard ; we assumed that the requirements for a first interpretation of
it were the requirements ordinarily demanded for the study of any au-
thor, namely, an aequaintance with the language in which the books
were written, familiarity with the order of thoughts dealt with, and
candor enough to recognize all the thoughts we found, exactly as we'
found them. The Bible claimed of its student " no peculiar state of
mind," unless an acquaintance with its literary peculiarities might be
taken to signify suc^ a state of mind.
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450 The Radical.
The professor saw all this and had the courage to be £uthfiil to hb
principle. He dealt fairly with his text If the language contained
an '' orthodox " sense he said so : if it contained a '^ heterodox " sense
he said so : if the two senses were inconsistent with each other, he
tried, perhaps a little harder than he would if a passage in Plato had
been under discussion, to reconcile them ; — but if he could not hon-
estly reconcile them, he said so, and let them stand as they were,
unreconciled. Discrepancies in the history he regretfully alloved,
and would make no unrighteous attempt to force repellant statements
of fact into harmony. Weaknesses ^in argument, impertinencies in
illustration, nan kquUurs in deduction, slips in allusion, blunders in
application and <)uotation, mis-fits of parallelism, infelicities of rhe-
toric, inconsistencies of opinion, he discerned, noted and felt no call
to s^logize for or annul. If Matthew tau^^t that Jesus was the
" Son of Man," and John that the Christ was the " Eternal Word,"
his duty was to make the fact known ; not to cover it up, or explain
it away. To assume an immunity from error was to assume that the
Bible was different from other books, and of course was not to be
read like other books. To assume historical, doctrinal, ethical, or
any other kind of consistency in advance of criticism, was to disarm
criticism and take the books out of the department of Literature. To
assume that there was a sense which dictionary and grammar did
not disclose, and which trained intelligence could not extract, was to
discredit grammar and dictionary, and warn intelligence off the field.
The rule often grated harshly against pre-existing reverences, as well
as against preconceived ideas. That however could not be helped,
a self-evident principle could not swerve from its line. There were
passages that came into somewhat rude collision with the discoveries
of modem science, but no rational power existing to prevent it, tl^
collision must, however damaging, take place. Had the earliest docu-
ments of the Old Testament come to us bearing the name of Aratus
or Hesiod, there would have been no reluctance to declare that
their descriptions of the physical universe were childish in the eyes
of actual knowledge. Why be deterred froii saying so, by the mere
feet that the books bear the name of Moses ? Does the circumstance
of authorship alter the meaning of the text ? Or does it discharge
from the duty of reading the text ? Do the '^ six days " become six
epoch^ or eons, simply because the phrase is found in " Genesis "
instead of in the '^ Works and Days " ? Does the steel firmament with
its windows for light, its openings for rain, and its solid frame work
dividing the upper from the lower waters, become a mere figure of
speech in the docimient '' Ehohim," when it would be a literal state-
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The Bible. 451
ment of belief in the " Theogony "? Why should a Hebrew cosmo^
gony be turned into poetry, and a Greek cosmogony into ridicule,
when the latter is no more wild than the former? The sacred books
of the East abound in records of miracle, and as we read them, we
smile at die fantastical stories as indicating an untrained intelligence
and an unbridled fancy : why not smile at similar records in Exodus
or Chronicles ? Is Hebrew ignorance of natural laws, more respecta-
ble than Boodhist ? Or do Hebrew accounts of a Miracle-governed
world, imply a Deity who transcends Law : while other similar ac-
counts imply no more than a populace that never suspected Law ?
The Cambridge Professor did not think so. He called about him
his learned helps, and what they revealed to him he frankly dis-
closed. '
The accounts of the creation were ancient, and no sensibilities
were much hurt by their free handling. The Old Testament might
be read " like any other book " and welcome. A slight twitching of
the nerves was manifest when the New Testament was taken up the
same way. Did the apostles believe in the speedy end of the world ?
Did Jesus think that the Last Judgment, which was preliminary to the
Millennial Rest, would take place during the life-time of men with
whom he was then conversing ? If Hermas or Clement, or the author of
the " Gospel of Nicodemus " had told us so, we might have questioned
the truth of their statement, but we should have admitted its import,
saying, "The language means this and cannot mean an3rthing else."
Why not admit as much when the reporter is Matthew, or Luke, or
Peter, or Paul, and the writings containing the statements are called
the Gospels ? What charm is there in the New Testament Greek to
transform the sense it conveys, or to paralyze the mind that would fix
a natural sense upon it ?
But a permission to read the Bible " like any other book " with a
view to finding exactly what it contains, is a permission to judge like
any other book, and say whether what it contains is correct in fact,
just in sentiment, right in principle. A foregone conclusion in regard
to its wisdom is fatal to a fair construction of its text : and a fair con-
struction of its text compels a verdict on its wisdom. If the Bible be
the product of the human mind, the human mind must pronounce on
its contents, as well as declare them. They who say the Bible is not
to be read like other books, deny that it contains unworthy represen-
tations of deity, and work a powerful exegesis to expel all such un-
worthy representations from the text. They who say the Bible is to
be read like other books, find suqh unworthy representations there,
and charge the text with them. Dr. Cheever, an abolitionist, assum-
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45^ Th« Radical.
log ibe infidliinlity of the Bible, ftrMm eve^inttfU^otnal nepve, i
4oubl€ lenses to his critical eye, drops the diMrpsst .acids on the
IxHsatearty in order to eitpuage the last vestige «f the virus of al^MWjL
He iwould not deal so with Aristotle or Seneca. Theodore Padce^
an aholitioniat, scannii^ the page as be would acan the page <d
AntoninHa or Epictelua, «aid: The BiUe sanctions ^very. Tkm
conscknoe of mankind does not ; the ^^oascjence of mankind nrasi
jildge tiie Bible.
So in the department of Faith. One jnaa, a Universalist, acc«ptiiy
the thoughts of Scripture, will exhaust great Neptune's seas in his eSoK
to extinguish certain sidphnrous proof texts ^ ibe Evangelicab ; if
4iey stood in Philo Judaus, he would not take the troul^e to tXHicli
them with his wetted finger. Another man, a Universalist, ^lietiy
notes the fact that the Bible teaches eternal damnation or something
like it, lays down die book and says : My leason reports the spina-
ual laws differently j the Hble is only a book, when all is said. A
book is a product of the human mind, as it was when the book was
written. The human mind now sees soone things more truly than at
4id when diis text was indited.
The Radical is not one-sided. He criticises with his whole min^
and not with any single faculty thereof. He believes in grammar
and dictionary, but he has faith in the spiritual eye too ; he uses seor
timent and imagination. He can appreciate sublimity; beaoty^
loveliness, purity and truth as well as another ; but he i^pprecialea
them only when he finds them. The grandeur of the Bible is not
concealed from him ; but he will have it reader a fair account of
itself at the bar of literary judgment He admires the poetry of the
Psalms, but not when they are inhuman ; he ooncedes the majesty
of Job, but pauses before its philosophy ; he is struck by the nobility
of the prophets, but their coarseness and narrowness do not escaq>e
hun. Many portions of the Bible he cannot read at all : either be-
cause they are unintelligible, or because they are obsolete, or because
they have no interest for modem men and women, or because they
contain sentiments that are untrue. No portions of it does he read
except as they convey in language venerable from its antiquity, or
tender from its association, thoughts which modem speech might
deliver quite as well, though less impressively. He reads it in his
pulpit for the simple reason that he can glean from it more good pul-
pit reading than any other literature will furnish so conveniently, and
beca\ise the inherent truth (^ its sentiment is waited for more rever-
entially as it falls from lips so long reputed especially holy. He takes
a passage as a text for his sermon, but sometimes he takes it to ^how
that it does not contain his truth.
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Thd Bible. 45>
The Radical ascribes no authority to the ]ffible over the mmdg
whkh are on die same level with minds that produced it ; and no
authority over lower minds save that moral supremacy which the ele-
vated must always claim over the inferior. He imputes no in^irah
tion to the Bible beyond the loftiness of the intelligence that created
it ; such loftiness a» may be found and « recognized in all high litjera*
ture. To its spiritual grandeur he dofib his bonnet^, willingly, but no
more willingly than to an equal grandeur in others ; and if the graa^
deur of others were equally familiar to him^ he would experience no
change of feeling in passing ftxmi its presence into theirs.
The Radical would gladly preserve the integrity of the Bible, but
having confessed the supremacy of the literary laws, he acquiesces ia
their decision and calmly sees, the sacred volumes disintegrate under
analysis. The critic who reduces the Scripture to a heap of fragsoents,
does not unsettle his faith. He knows that the literature at an age
must not only be marked with the spirit of the age, and by the* gen^
ius of the people of the age, but must bear traces of the experiences
through which the time passed, the fashions, moods, caprices and
policies of men, the accidents of fortune, th% manipulations of scribes
and editors^ the revisions of priests, statesmen, men of letters, dema*
gogues and prophets^ He is certain that manuscripts must have beea
ascribed intentionally, or otherwise to wrong dates and wrong authors,
that some books must have been composed in the interest of partiear
and cliques, that a seeming, history may very well be a political pam^
phlet, that a narrative may disguise a philosophy, and a poem con-
ceal a dogma. He is not surprised when the Pentateuch in its present
tona is removed a. thousand years from the age of Moses^ when the
Psalms are distributed among many authors, when Job is taken up
and declared to be an intellectual boulder that has strayed from its
native land and- lodged on Hebrew soil,, when Matthew,. Mark and
Luke are proiK>unced ungenuine, and John's gospel is completely de«
tatched from the ^;>oslolic age. His interest in literary truth, and
his enjoyment of literary art in its perfection, more than make amends.
tot the pain he suffers at sight of the sundered unity and the broken^
charm of tradition;^ If his confidence in the Letter is dispelled^ his
confidence in the eye that sees through and beyond ^bc Letter is
strengthened. The continuity of the faith does not depend on the
continuity of that particular record On the contrary, it is the con-
tinuity of the Faith that dismembers the record.
In a word, the Radical meditates no dishonor to the Bible in deal-
ing with it as he does< Dishonor the Bible by heartily adopting it
among, the grandest productions of the hiunan mind I Dishonor the
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454 "^^^ Radical.
Bible by giving it a place in the great line of the world's Literature !
Dishonor the Bible by taking it down from the niche where it has
stood an object of idolatrous worship, and pouring its noble wine into
the cup from which all men drink ! Nothing is honored by beings
separated from human spirit and human life. And why should there
be so much solicitude about dishonoring the Bible, and no more
solicitude about dishonoring something else, all the rest of literature
for instance, which by the side of the Bible is branded as "profane •* ;
the human mind itself, maker of all Literatures, which has been coolly
told all these generations, that the Bible was not only beyond its
capacity of creation, but beyond its reach of comprehension ? Is it
not worth while, and will it not be wise at last, to transfer respect
from the less to the greater, and let the creature shine with a re-
flected gjory from the creator ?
As for authority, it is taken from a single product of the human
mind and attributed to all products of the same grade ; thereby beings
multiplied and not diminished, extended, not destroyed. And as for
Inspiration, instead of being denied, it is more emphatically and com-
prehensively affirmed ; for it is held to belong to all writings of h^
spiritual character ; nay, far more dian that, it is held to be an attri-
bute of all creative intellect in its moods of moral elevation.
Whether the Cambridge professor went so far as this, we do not
k^ibw : probably not, for time is necessary commonly to develop even
logical consequences. But those of his pupils who took him at his
word, and read the Bible as they would read any other book, have
been led to this point. If the Bible is to be read like any other
book, it is to be judged like any other book : what is true in it is to
be accepted because true, and what is untrue, as untrue is to be dis-
carded ; the errors are to be corrected ; and the constituent ele-
ments themselves are to be subjected to analysis. In a word, if the
Bible is to be read like any-other book, it is like any other book.
Here the Radical mi^t stop ; but not to be considered flippant,
shallow, conceited, and ignorant of what may be said on the other side,
he will add a word or two more. The " Conservative," using the
word in the popular sense, which is no sense at all, takes issue with
the "Radical" at the outset, by saying that the Bible is not like any
other book, and consequently is not to be read like any other book.
Other books have all their meaning patent in their text : the Bible
does not The text may misrepresent, and even invert the inner
meaning, it never reports it : at least it never reports it to the critical
understanding, or the penetrative reason. That may investigate as
it will, it gets at nothing behind the shell That may rend and gnaw
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The Bible. 455
and tear as it will, it can no more destroy the unity of the Bible than
it could have created it Your method, O Radical, is entirely false,,
your efforts futile, your labors quite thrown away. The Bible is a
superhuman Book, and can be read only by eyes superhumanly
opened, eyes of faith opened by the Church and anointed by prayer.
To such eyes it appears what it really is, a consistent whole, complete
in all the unities. Below the critic's dividing lines flows one broad
stream of Truth from end to end, making one domain of chronicle,
poem and prophecy, reconciling apparently hostile regions of devel-
opment and running together seemingly sundered reaches of time.
Thus the believer, standing at the heart of Scripture, smiles pityingly
at the unbeliever nibbling away at its rind, and swallowing the moon
in his water-pail.
When the ordinary Orthodox protestant talks in this way, the Rad-
ical says : Well, sir, show me this unity that you speak of^ and I shall
be satisfied. Convince me that all the eyes that claim to be eyes of
Faith anointed by prayer, discern the same spiritual Truths in the Bible,
and I will re-consider my method. But how many Orthodox sects
are there, each of which professes to have the eye of faith anointed
by prayer, but each discovering a fundamental Truth which the rest
do not discover? The Bible seems to present as many different as-
pects to you who read it with the eyes of Faith, as it does to us, who
read it with eyes of Science. Till you, can demonstrate your advan-
tage, you will hardly commend to us yoiu: method. Till you can show
us something which is invulnerable to our weapons, and from which
our studious apparatus recoils, we must be allowed to consider our-
selves masters of the situation. So long as you cannot agree as to
what you find, you must permit us to believe that we can find all
there is, and you must not blame us if we read the Bible like any
other book. In a word, tM, your doctrine of Unity b something more
than an assumption, we Cannot entertain it, and must submit that you
beg the question under discussion. To refer us to the creed as con-
taining the key to Bible interpretation is of no avail, is in fact an im-
pertinence. It merely transfers the discussion to another field ; from
the field of Scripture to that of Philosophy, from the dictionary to
metaphysics. Who shall vouch for the Creed ? Which Creed ?
The Swedenborgian tries to lay the matter out more scientifically.
To him the Bible is a book of symbols. The natural sense represents
the spiritual, but does not present it You must have the key to
the spiritual sense before you can apprehend the natural. All your
critical fumbling at the door will fail to touch the spring ; the bolt
waits for the magical word ; and that word the doctrine of corres-
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45^ The Rftdical.
pondences alone can communicate. Take the '^ Dictionary of Cor-
respondences" in place of Gesenius^ and the Bible will be revealed to
you as the book of Spiritual Wisdom, the ""Word of God *^ ; all so-
perficialjdifficulties will be removed* all apparent disorepancxes will
be accounted for, ail seeming contradicdcms will be reconciled.
nationalism will drop screw, file and bit, and be lost in admiration
as profound as the Catfaolicsy and more reasonable.
This is a perfectly fair position. The Radical waits* to see it
justified. But why does the Swedenborgian begin by omitting large
portions of Scriptuse as having no spiritual sense ^^iiatever ? Has he
ever applied bis principle to all the prations that he accepts ? ELis
he done more than make partial studies here and ^ere ? Are those
studies conducted in a rational, or in an ingeniously fanciful spirit?
How is one to know that the sense indicated is the spiritual sense ?
Or how can we be certain that the special texts were des%ned to-
oonvey this special meaning, which certainly they would never sng^T
gest to the natural* mind, and which the nund must put itself in ar
most unnatural, frame to discover, looking head downwaids as it
were ? AxkI ^is Dictionary of Correspondences : on what authority
are we to receive it ? On what principles was it framed ? How com-
■ prehensive b it ? How generally applicable ? How correct ? Wliat
feats of Exegesis has it aocomplished? How far has it unfolded a
uniform deep spiritual significance in Old Testament or in- New^ or
in any considerable portion oi either ? And to what extent is the
significance it has unfolded self-evident to the reason ?
Something more than Swedenborg's assertion is necessary to per*
suade us that by Man in the Scripture, is signified the supernatural '
prindple ; that cities represent the " interior of the natural mind **';
that the belly stands for the " interior understanding '' ; that a ^ kkl ''
means the " truth of the church,'' an " ox !* ^ " truth of natural good,'* .
a "she ass" "the aflfectionfor such> truth," and "swine" the "transr
cendentaiists." This may be very cunning; puzzling, but it is by no
means clear that it is worth the guessing. It-would seem to be about
as wise to read the Bible like any other book, as to read it in defiance
of all the rdies by which other books are read. A little wiser, per*
haps, to get good> plain usefiil truth out of it here and there, than to
worry out spiritual senses by a process which looks more, like puzzlh^
than like sober insight
Show me, cries the Radical, a spiritual sense in the Bible which
evidences itself by its^ uniformity, its simplicity^ its consistency and
depth, its accordance with the laws of reason, its correspoi^dence with,
the, facts of life, itsharmony with the soul's: intuitions, and I.wiU wet
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The Bible* • 457
come it in place of my critical doubt: but as yet the ^xiateece of such
a sense appears* to me nothing more tiian a mystical di«am.
The author of a remarkable book entitled " Pfailosi)f>hy as Abso^
lute Science," claims to have 'done what Swedenborg, thmugh -wmt
of .a rational philosophy, failed to do* He proltsses to have foimd
this deep sense of Scripture, and to be able to unfoM it To him the
Bible spes^s throughout one voice, not aodible to the ear of the ua-
decstanding, but articulate to the ear c^ Reason. Eye cannot read it
in the letter ; ear cannot hear it in Hebr#r or Gpeek speech ; mind<
of man, so far from comprehending it, does nothing but pervert and*
reverse it ; but to the ^iiit it is disclosed The Bible, in his view^
is a book of spiritual Philosophy ; it contains tiie Science of the Uni*
^ verse. He can justify every text ; he can restore the texts that criti*
cism declares to be ungeniune ; he can demonstrate the truth of that
which criticism discards ; aad nothing is impossible to Mm. He bids>
the critics do their worst, and laughs them* to scorn* Their laboiSJ
are worse than fruitless ; their triumphs are defeats ; their science isi
no science ; their conclusions aa:e destructive. They are on the way
to the absolutely false. While they are losing their way in the outor
courts, he with his private key enters the holy of hoUes ; the secret
place of Rwelation.
The author does not perform this feat of estmcting from- the Bible w
unanimous confession of his philosophy ; but the sole reason, he assures
us, why he has not done so, is- that it would take too much time.
The task in itself would not be a hard one. Having tried the key in
a great many locks, and never found it- £euL to shoot the bolt back, he
is confident that all the doors of Exegesis will yields And having
discovered precisely the same contents inaeveiy chamber, it would be
but an idle curiosity and a needless fatigue to run through all the
galleries.
The interior of three or four chambers is opened for inspection. Am
appendix to the volume presents to the proselyte of the ^ite a few
specimens of the spiritual interpretations ; the Lost Sheep» the Pr<K
digal Son, the History (^ Job. The Radioid seada aod pondeis*
There surely, is the Philosophy, not precisely extracted from the text,
but. snugly laid into it^ in a' manner wonderful ^cdnsidlN', all effi^cted
with the dd of a^ revised, enlarged' and correeted' edition of that same
" Dictionary of Correspondences " which we found on Svedenborg'isi
table. The "hundred sheep " for instance, represent the "condition
of the sentimental nature under the superintendence of the CathoUa
Church."^ The "Publican" is the Unitariaa;, the "Sinner" is the,
Transpendentalist ;, " the discifile^of John the Baptist who^ preachedi
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4S8 ' The Radical.
the crucifixion of Extemalbm. ** Laying the sheep on the shoulder
signifies the communication of spiritual life to the soul ** ; and so forth.
All very good, but what objection can there be to our making the
Kble words mean something else, and so getting another kind of
Philosophy out of them ? Who shall guarantee the scientific accuracy
of the vocabulary? If the Philosophy has constructed the Dictionary
—of course the Dictionary will " reveal " the Philos6phy. Then who
is to answer for the Philosophy ? The Radical is sore bestead. He
is first to accept the Philoscphy, no slight matter of itself He is next
to whip the Philosophy into the Bible with help fi-om th6 doctrine of
Correspondences, — an imdertaking requiring more skill in exegesis
than any existing divinity school can boast When he has done diis
he will indeed be ready to confess that the Bible is imlike any other
book. He prudently waits till those who believe in these hidden,
deep, impalpable senses, produce them, justify them, and force peo-
ple to receive them on pain of being put down among the irrational-
ists.
The Radical therefore maintains his attitude : reads the Bible ^
he would read any other book ; criticbes it, judges it ; uses it for in-
struction, reproof, and edification ; but expects no superhuman wis-
dom firom it, and will not call it the Word of God, or the Book in
which the words of God are especially written.
FRAGMENTS.
Grasshoppers are musical but snails are dumb. The latter rejoice in
being wet ; and the former in being warm. Then the dew calls out die
one race, and for this they come forth ; but, on the contrary, the noonday
sun awakens the others, and in this they sing. If therefore you would be
a musical and harmonious person, whenever the soul is bedewed with wine
at the drinking-parties, suffer her not to go forth and defile herself. But
when in rational society she glows by the beSuns of reason, then command
her to speak from inspiration, and utter the oraclus of justice.
When you avoid suffering 3rourself^ seek not to impose on others. You
avoid slavery, for instance ; take care not to enslave. For if you can bear
to exact slavery from others, you appear to have been yourself a slave.
For vice has nothing in common with virtue, nor freedom with slavery. As
a person in health would not wish to be attended by the sick, nor to have
those who live with him in a state of sickness ; so neither would a person
who is free bear to be served by slaves, nor to have those whe live widi
him in a state of slavery. From « TAi Works ofEpictctusr
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DELUSION.
BY D. A. WASSON.
Upon the mountain summit, pierced with cold,
I could not credit summer's heat below ;
Warm yesterday, as some fine fable old,
Some mythus of the golden age, did show.
So on these peaks of matter, distant far
From Life — Itself, the Quickener of the all,
Our souls, so pressed with sense, deluded are.
And doubtingly their home, their right, recall.
Sweet in the bosom memories will teem
Of birth and bliss empyreal, but we smile.
We smile despair, then say, " 't is but a dream ;
Clay, clay is real, nor doth our thought beguile."
Courage, my soul I Thy dream renew, renew !
The worlds are shadows; spirit's dream is true.
THE RELIGIOUSNESS OF SPECULATIVE CULTURE.
BY GBORGK UOWISON.
<< T T is the Spirit that quickeneth," said Jesus, " the Flesh profiteth
I nothing : the words that I speak unto you, they are spirity and
they are /^." If there is any one truth to which the procedure
of civilization has lent its infallible authority, it is that our physical
existence, with all its appliances, is not true being, but only its means
and plastic matter. Unconsciously, at least, mankind assents to the
doctrine of the Divine Life. Nor, when the question rises into con-
sciousness, can we ever doubt that eternal things alone are valid ;
that time and space are but the soul's perishable scaffolding toward
heaven ; that our abiding end is, to realize our inherent oneness with
God.
But how ? If we neglect the central thread of civilization, in which the
motive inspiration is lodged, to consider only the multitude who crowd
about it and make the characteristic mass of daily living, how feeble a
comprehension of the great truth is at once exposed. On every side,
the divine ordination reversed. House and land, traffic, arts, manners,
governments, international comities, not the meansy humbly working
toward the knowledge, belief, discovery of truth ; toward the inspira-
tion of the sentiment ; toward enthusiasm for Art, Philosophy, Reli-
gion : but the usurping ends^ to which all spiritual culture is postponed/
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or for which it must prostitute its heavenly graces. A practical
^education is held to be one that will build railways, command an
army, keep accounts, doing the deed and not thinking its methocL
Throughout the churches, there is a prevailii^ nodon that the culture
of the intellect is hardly a part of the divine Vocation ; that it is a
thing well enough, but exc^t as it can be put to fixed uses, is not
a duty ; that it may be the privilege of ^"earners, but that practical
Christians ought to devote their £uth to the doings of tl^ household,
the shop, the state, the church. The quesition^ too, amounts to a
maxim : Which is of the greater importance, a cultivated intellect,
or a sanctified heart ? Such is still the parvadii^^ infidelity toward
the oneness of our spiritSi
It would %Bem not out of place, therefore, to re-affirm our unity.
Let us say then, that Faith has its threefold fruit in Knowledge,
Love, and Doing, and that these Three are One; that the Divine
Life, which, in so far as it manifests iteelf in finite beings, is the imity
of Faith and Works, can be truly operative only in the trinity by
which the Works proceed. H^nce it shall appear that it cannot be
uttered in Religion alone, or the binding-back upon Faith of our
threefold energy in knowledge, feelings and will ; but that arising in
Religion, it must proceed by rational thought toward the comprehen-
sion of the infinite Order ; so that the Sentiment, enlightened, may
love and worship in spirit and in truth ; and the WiU, inspired, may
in the same truth build character and conduct, the family, the state,
civilization : in one word, the Church, visible and invisible. If,, then,
we repeat the question : How sh^ we realize our inherent unity
with God, it shall be answered, By comprehension of the infinite^
system of truth. Not without speculative culture,, are either man-
Idnd or men sanctified. Philosophic thinking is thus^ one of the ele-
mental forces in society and in each member of it If it fail to eiist,
society and the individual alike perish away fi'om- their vital powers.
It i& written, '^ Man shall not live by bread aloiM, but by every word
that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." At the foundation of
Cbrisdanity, lies the doctrine tint our ^onf^rmatiam to God advames
only by the comprehension oj His- thou^^in^its Oimiitp o/Beautyy Truths
and Good, Speculative culture is the method of t/^ Divine Ltfe*
The positive aigument for thift*doctrine may be outlined as foK
lows V The fundamental postulate of existence- i& the Absolute Par"
son ; that is, the selfrconscious One. He ^ose- 1 is discriminated-
against Itself alone ; not, as- ours, against some othen But a Con-
sciousness, thus< self^etermined^. is at once a will, but infinite ; tf
thinking but. infinite ; an emotioni but infinite : at once Oainipok
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tence, Omniscience, Self-content Life) then, is the career of the
Thinking Spirit In holy Trinity, He abideth in His eternity, infinite •
Ground of finite will ; goeth forth of His eternity, the creative Logos,
infinite Ground of finite reason ; filleth His eternity, Spirit the
Comforter, self-contained Joy in the order of His eternal creation,
infinite Ground of finite desire. The finite existences are but the de-
terminations, the definitions, the form-takings of His thought He
in us, and wejrom Him ; the Divine Life is simply the identification
of God and humanity. Hence, as He createth eternally, and is thus
infinite only in the personality of his eternal Reason, so only do we
truly live as that Reason uttereth itself in us, and as we find in it
content of desire, or will it into conduct, by incessantly proceeding
in the comprehension of its order. As He is Three in One, so
must we become one in knowledge, feeling, will ; and the method of
this unity b Speculative Thought
Out of this general argument, one might easily descend into details,
and show how the entire movement of individual and social develop-
ment, how the formal product of the same in institutions, is finally
conditioned upon speculative thinking. But perhaps a more immedi-
ately effective exhibition of the truth will be gained, by assuming that
speculation is rejected by the individual and by society, and showing
how certainly both will, in that case, perish. One further affirmative
thought we must however consider, before entering upon this nega-
tive procedure, in order that we may begin with a higher comprehen-
sion of what Speculation means.
It is somewhat widely admitted, even by those who speak con-
temptuously of the philosopher as a contemplative dreamer, that the
* Severe,' or by especial grace, the * Practical,' sciences are quite in-
dispensable to society and indeed even to trade. It is by such, nota-
bly forgotten that every science, even a Practical, is possible only by
contemplation, and has been, as a matter of historic fact, the residt
of abstract speculation. Indeed, the comprehension, and hence
the discovery and first application, of every science, is impossible ex-
cept by speculation : the origin of every science being in the dialectic
of universal and necessary concepts. Speculative thinking, thus pur-
sues the Science of all the sciences 3 or better, the absolute Science
of Science itself. The Triune Person, thinking His universe, exists
in an infinite system : speculative thinking, or Philosophy, is the re-
search of the method in the system. Whoever, therefore, by his own
direct insight knows even one moment in that method, — and in no
otherwise can he know it — is by so far philosopher, or speculative
» thinker. Philosophy, Art, Civilization, are but one and the same
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462 The Radical.
Truth, determining itself into different modes. The first, is the sys-
tem proceeding by method. The second, is the system in its eternal
unity. The third, is the system actualized in the union of its method
and its totality. Artist, thus, only anticipates Philosopher. True
Poet is true Prophet; for. in him the speculative thought, sublimed
into a rapidity hitherto swifter than consciousness, seizes the totality
of its own method and fixes it in form, in which the steadfast thinker.
afterwards traces it in due order, and by a thought truly more divine ;
because he thus consciously attains the order of the infinite Reason,
and provides that he shall hereafter out-poet the poet, celebrating
with the higher inspiration which comprehension always brings, in
numbers equal with the perfected civilization, the Spirit descending
and ascending into and through mankind.
Every true thought, whether in science of Space and Time, in sci-
ence of Nature, in science of Spirit, in An, or in the framing of insti-
tutions, is a moment in the infinite scheme of speculation. What is
good in the moment however, is good only by virtue of the system to
which it belongs, and can be maintained, whether in the separate man
or in mankind, only as the system itself is followed toward completion.
When, therefore, we speak of Speculative Culture, we should mean
the exercise and joy of all Truth, or Art, or Avocations, in so far as
these arise in conscious thinking. Whatever is known, loved, or
done in the comprehension of its truth at first hand, is an exercise of
speculation. Thus, all spiritual culture is speculative ; and the de-
nial that speculation is essential to our true being, is equivalent to ,
denying that Spirit is sovereign in the universe, — to asserting that it
has an end beyond itself, and that this end is the material world.
Now let us look upon the negative side : what are the consequences
of such a denial ? Suppose we assume that, not Wisdom, but Matter
of Fact is the principal thing ; that thought is not its own end, but
has a right only in virtue of the uses it can serve, the institutions it
can promote ? We hear a great deal about the Wisdom of the Hour,
—how it consists mainly in managing affairs so as to secure an hon-
orable competence, make home happy, and help others to do the
same, — some such gospel it is which has wellnigh driven fi-om the
pulpit the profound speculative doctrines of the elder Christianity :
what is the necessary result of private or public conduct directed by
such teaching ? It has been affirmed, and is now repeated, that ^^
end is Spiritual Death, the wasting away of all our powers, whether
of knowing, or of feeling, or of will.
Let us see, first, whether this is not true in regard to the Intellect
Of knowing, there are two distinguishable stages, or modes : Sen-
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suouSy and supersensuous. Firsts we have knowledge, through our
several senses, of this or that single material thing : a house, a man, a
tree, a stretch of water, an expanse of sky, the shining sim. But in the
second stage we decover that these, which at first appeared so simple,
and each so sufficient for itself, are not only discriminable one from
another, but often repeated in nature. Within this stagey there is,
first, the discovery that in all things going imder the same name there
is an invariable something, which at first sight of the particular ob-
ject we seem to recognize as known already, so that each new tree, or
water-view, or human being merely repeats and varies an unvarying
theme. Things are no longer merely this or that, here or there, but
are embodied concepts. Next, we find that these concepts, which we
cannot but think are eternal, however transitory the separate* embodi-
ments may be, are themselves the unities of other concepts, the varia-
tions of a higher theme. This is our elementary lesson in science, as
distinguished from ordinary knowledge. All our developed science is
nothing more than the recognition that nature is but an array of forms
not isolated, but related, grouped according to necessary relation in the
concepts embodied in the several forms. As we ascend from pne scheme
of truth to another, we at length learn that all truths constitute an
infinite system, first, in their immaterial, eternal purity, and next, in
their natural manifestation. From unities, through higher unities, we
pass to absolute Unity ; the multitude of individual existences are
seen to constitute a imiverse, vital with one transcendent Theme.
Thus what appeared to our eyes a simple body, has unveiled itself
before our thinking as a wondrous complex into which have vanished
the elements of the system of thought, — that system, the eternal pro-
cedure of the Thinking Person, and each single existence one stage
in the infinite series of His self-determinations.
Such are the two great modes of knowing. It is evident that the
second, the thinking of the system of unsensuous concepts, is identi-
cal with what has hitherto been called Speculation. To asstune,
then, that Speculation has no vital function in religious life, or that
Matter of Fact is the sole field of action to be animated by the senti-
ment of worship, is to disallow the infinitude of supersensuous know-
ledge, and limit man to the finitude of the senses^ and the sensuous
understanding.
Man, then, acting professedly with religious motive in outward oc-
cupations alone, in the sensuous understanding alone : — will he real-
ize the Divide Life, or what will become of him and of any society
that he may in this way establish ? WfaAt will the end be to the in-
tellect itself ?
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464 The IRadical.
Sriefty, — Defeat of civilization, bafbarism, intellectual savageism.
For, in the last analysb, it is the limitation of knowledge to the
realm of the senses, which, separates the savage from the civilizilif^
man. In the savage, brute Nature holds Spirit in abe3rance ; in man
civilizing, Spirit proceeds in a never ending subjugation and regener-
ation of Nature. The savage is an adult body, hiding an infantile ^oul.
^* The Flesh histeth against the Spirit." Hence, the man who coiv-
Ibunds his spiritual Vocation with his avocation^ by assuming that his
end is the sensuously practical, does by this confusion assume to aH
intents the intellectual position of the savage. If, by grace of the con-
tagious civilization surrounding hin, he be saved from the repulsive
exterior^ of the savage, or enriched with a wider field in which his
matter-of-fact understanding may plod, or confronted with a mirror of
decency which frightens him from grossness and chases his unruly
appetites into hiding places of craft, avarice, or hard dealing, let all
this be granted ; it b no product of his elected function, but exists
simply in spite of that Not only so, but his assumption is the ob-
struction of civilization itself. Civilization is the Divine Life uttering
itself in a society, in mankind. It is religion socialized. Here the
Spirit subjugates the Flesh, according to the order by which die whole
Creation proceeds. All social institutions arise out of a perpetual
Regeneration, — out of a consciousness surely following the method
of tiie divine Thought, and infallibly attaining its comprehension. To
civilize, each human being must be veritably bom anew. The thought
. abeyant in him, the intrinsic unity which he has with God, which he
cannot dissolve by less than self-annihilation, must rise to the bcgiftr-
ning of comprehending the immutable verities in which he lives.
God, Truth, Beauty, Good, must descend into his present conscious-
ness with such distinctness as to be his at first hand, — as to brook
no delay, but he shall run after them with joy. Seeing thus that these
alone have valid being, he thenceforth pursues their thought, ration-
alizes, gains comprehension of the divine system, loves, produces ac-
cordant conduct, frames the ever developing Christendom. In the
movement of God's spiritual kingdom, nothing goes by rote, but all
by insight As no being is ever bom from above, through having
committed the doctrines to memory, but only by direct personal dis-
covery and seeing face to face ; so the mere Practical Performer, sat-
isfied with such wonders as he can work with hb rules and routine,
divides himself from the civilizing intelligence, and abstracts the
working of its grace in himself and in all whom he may support or
mislead in a like folly. Hftice, too, the fact that the savage and bar-
barian tone of intellect, tamed a littie for the show, but savage and
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speculative Culture. * 465
barbarian still, infests the high places of civilization itself. It rides
in our chariots, flaunts in our parlors, giggles, stares and simpers in
our social assemblies and on our promenades. What a pantomimist
it is 1 No form of civilization, however refined, that it does not ape.
If fashion dictates, it attends upon lectures in science, or reads at
works in philosophy. As a common thing, it is to be found at the
musi^ assemblies, is a prominent patron of poets, painters and'
.sculptors, and even prays in our churches. When a criminal breaks
loose, we can all understand that we have a savage among us. Truly,
crime in civilized communities has a significance, but we are slow to
read it It is only the old story of the wolf in sheep's clothing. It
ought to teach us that, by sheer force of imitation, the form of civili-
zation may exist where its spirit does not ; that he who has not learned
to tAinJ^y and by thought, instead of by conventions, to regulate his
conduct, departs from the savage intelligence in form alone, and not
in substance.
The three co-ordinate forms in which civilization symbolizes and
tests its procedure, are Religion, Philosophy and Art As civiliza-
tion exists only in their co-ordination, development and comprehen-
sion, so do they become actual, objective, and /or us, in the process
of civilization, and not otherwise. Accordingly, it is in the conduct
of mere practicalism with respect to these, that its intellectual impo-
tence is most apparent The man who lives in it, may no doubt con-
duct a business, build a locomotive according to pattern, or even
manage affairs, and that too with sufficient ability ; but we should
hardly expect him to paint the Sistine Madonna, carve Laocoon or
build the dome of Saint Peter's ; still less, to discover a new planet,
or the law of gravitation. To look for Zoroasters in him, or Holy
Scriptures from him, would be simple blasphemy. In presence of
either Art, Philosophy or Religion, the devotees of the Practical be-
have as creatures of sense, and not of reason. They are either dull,
hard, unsympathetic, or caught away in a flurry of volatile sensa-
tions.
Now, every work of Art is the embodiment of a theme which has a
fathomable order and unity of thought It can be known and enjoyed
as Art, only in the conscious recognition of that theme. Otherwise,
it titillates the senses merely. And to many, doubtless this sensuous
pleasing is the only experience either in Sculpture, Painting or Music.
To such, the I>ym^ Glculiator contains nothing loflier than the an-
guish of a dying body. How many look upon Raphael's Transfigura-
tion, and come away saying — How ugly he has made Christ's hands 1
2
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466 The Radical.
How few hear the struggling soul crying to God through the score of
Beethoveh, or can recognize it when you tell them it is there. Poetiy
itself, with the plain utterance of words, is to many nothing more
than rhythmic sound. Or, if its separate thoughts be clearly taken,
and its fancies excite a pleasurable glow, how seldom does their unity
rise into the mind of the reader — the unity by which alone their con-
stitute a Poem, a veritable Creation, perfect image of the imity of
God's creative thought
Philosophy and Religion fare still worse. Little can it avail to
affect intelligence by conning over this or that 'Valuable Tieatise
on Mental Science,' when speculation, which alone is equal to its
o^n comprehension, is repudiated as unmeaning. Philosophy, is
thus, simply impossible. Without it, there comes the narrow mind.
And Religicn is therefore supplanted by bigotry, superstition, and
finally indifference — the only real infidelity. For we really have
faith, and worship, exactly in proportion as we comprehend truth.
Thus, the history of religion runs all the way from Fetichism up to
philosophic Christianity. In the being who does not think them, all
worship, and all reverence for so-called doctrines, are merely super-
stition. A doctrine is such, only in virtue of being found in thought
and received in conviction. How, then, is faith to have way in an
intellect restricted in its exercise to mere matters of fact ? God, Im-
mortality, Sin, Atonement, Regeneration, the Resurrection from the
Dead — how shall these become doctrines to the soul that requires as
its ground of certainty, positive sight, hearing, touch ? — that has at-
tained the folly of believing the transitory to be the only reality ?
The evidence of the senses, and the whole method thereof, taken
alone, goes counter to every one of these truths that wholly transcend
the senses. All that nature says of God is — Fate; of Immortality
— Death, Transition ; of Sin^ Atonement, Regeneration, Resurrec-
tion — not one word.
This dying-out of the spiritual powers is not merely a logical se-
quence of the principle assumed. The sequence writes itself legibly
in facts. The air is full of a voluble sentimentalism over arts,
knowledges, and rituals. We are gone mad with Diffusion of Intelli-
gence. There is endless celebration of being well-informed ; exten-
sive visitation of circulating libraries, and galleries of Art ; immeas-
urable playing upon the piano and going to concerts, with some sed-
ulous memorizing of the great composers. But youth hastens to
break away from the restraints which lead to thought, from the sober
studies which contain its rudiments. It hurries to be rich, to marry
and maintain an establishment Why — it does not pause to in-
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Speculative Culture, 467
<|mre. It hfts been the custom ; that is sufficient / Imitation lords it
over the reason. Conviction, imagination, worship, are not awak-
ened, but perish in sleep beneath the all-subduing spell of con-
vention.
Such are the effects of the Practical Theory upon the intellect It
has a similar experience with the Feelings.
The feelings, or the soul emotive, are the bond between the soul
knowing and the soul willing. Accordingly, as there are two distin-
guishable modes in knowing, there are also two in feeling. The first
is the excitation from sensuous knowing ; the second is that from the
system-seeking thought Feelings of the first mode, we will call Sen-
sations ; those of the second, Sentiments. To the former class, be-
long all the merely self-regarding impulses, the passions of the flesh,
and the instinctive fondnesses. To the latter, all the unselfish and
immortal aspirations ; for the Sentiments are the finite projection of
the divine self-content, the yearning to arise out of our mere self-hood
into our possible unity with God. Hunger, the craving for the pres-
ence of the beloved, the desire of gain, the pride of life, are Sensa-
tions ; joy in beauty, joy in truth and its pursuit, patriotism, human-
ity, devotion, are Sentiments.
Since the habit of the feelings is thus determined by the habit of
the intellect, it is manifest that devoting the life to merely practical
pursuits must end in an exclusively sensational experience of feeling.
As we can run the descending scale of intellection, from its highest
reach in the civilized community to its lowest settling in the savage,
and find that just in proportion as it deals with mere matters of fact,
using thought only for its ministrations to the general comfort, the
community approaches the savage condition ; so, within the visible
limits of civilization, we can trace a like descending, from its thinking
leaders to the half-conscious multitude who wear its guises, but are in
most spiritual experiences essentially barbarian* And in community
and individual alike, the dormant reason carries with it a dormant
and dying emotion. As we descend from community to community,
this is evident enough ; within the civilized limits, it is doubtless not
so apparent, by virtue of the contagion of fashion. Indeed, the de-
votees of refined materialism appear quite ardent in cultivating the
graces of life. But let us not deceive ourselves ; there is the distance
of the whole heaven between sentiment and sentimentalism. The
absence of all feeling that has its source in comprehension, is not in-
compatible with the apparition of the most refined forms of civilized
life. The sensations perpetually simulate the sentiments. Pride dis-
places the honor which it feigns ; fondness mimics love, and is mis-
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468 The Radical.
taken for it ; vanity of fadiion vaunts itself as rapture for heaatj ;
self-conceit counterfeits the love of truth ; sanctimony supplants wor-
ship ; all deceive actor and beholder alike. Here, indeed, we strike
upon the dark currents in unthinking life. What with its idols <^
Respectability, Fashion and Convention, it reduces the emotional ex-
perience of communities to a dreadful dissimulation. A very witch's
draught of Mephistopheles, it drowns the spirit in the torrent of the
senses, and causes mere nervous exhilaration to seem ravishment widi
the heavenly ideals. The sentiment due to Art, b travestied by a
bedizened and chattering obladon to fiaishion in the crowded assem-
bly ; or, in private intercourse, evaporates in platitudes inspired by
the seeing eye, and not by the rapt heart Music hastens to be pop-
ular ; men and women listen to it, but hear in it no human or heav-
enly voice ; only a mystic, sweet confusion of sounds. Yet they thrill
to it, weep at it ; surely this is sentiment 1 Is it sentiment, then, in
the tiny mouse, that dies in ecstasy at the plaintive notes of the tio-
lin ? These are only the sensuous effects of music All forms of Art
have these in common. In no form do we attain smHmmi^ until we
in some degree comprehend the truth which constitutes the theme of
the form. As for the sentiment of Philosophy, we need not mistake
though we hear never so much prating about the love of truth. We
may be certain, once for all, that this highest of sentiments dawns in
those alone who heartily strive to know the truth. Shall we suppose
that we have attained it, if we can still yield ourselves widi pliant
.gracility to enact the polished lies of society, the studied concealment
of the real opinion, in the conceit that by so doing we are paying
homage to the beauty in courtesy? In religion, if we reject the
thinking which gives it reach and meaning, we may and do attend
upon manifold ceremonials ; but the Christian symbols are in so &r
a dead letter, the Christian formulary rolls over us, never awakening
one vision of true God's presence, nor one thrill of that joyful rising
out of humiliation, which is the essence of all worship that is senti-
ment Still less, is it felt that all true being b utterance of worship —
true art, true thought, true love — and indeed the only real utterance.
In exchange for these noble possibilities, we have, at best, a didl con>
tent with the comforts of daily living; more probably, an uneasy
reaching after nervous excitement amid the confusions of Vanity
Fair ; at worst, imdemeath the polbhed proprieties of convention, the
corruption of bondage to sensual lusts. There may, to be sure, seem
to remain a generosity — but like tiie eagle's ; a benignity — but like
the dog's ; a valor — but like the horse's. Thus we sum the remnant
of what was man's heart ; a range of impulses common to us and tlie
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Speculative Culture. 469
brutes. In truth, ^' who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward,
and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth ? All
go unto one place ; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.
Yea, they have all one breath ; so that a man hath no pre-eminence
above a beast : for all is vanity."
But the evil does not end here. As the intellect does not attain its
profoundest insight except by the co-operation of the sentiment ; and
as neither sentiment nor thought can experience full being except
by the co-operation of the holy will ; so the greatest spiritual disas-
ters to either, are not experienced except through the re-action of
the deteriorated will. What,- then, does practicalism do for the
WiU?
The soul as will, in so far as concerns its function of creating con^
duct, is exercised only in view of foregone knowing and feeling. It
puts, or fails to put, a thought into conduct, accordingly as it com-
prehends the thought, and as its feeling is in concord, or not, with
the real character of the thought There is in it the reserved possi-
bility of acting the thought in defiance of either truth, or feeling, or
both ; but this is not its ordinary experience. Usually, right is done
when the feeling is in harmony with the knowledge of the truth ;
wrong, when the feeling is discordant. In general, the feeling due to
a thought , or the valuation of it according to its place in the univer^
sal scheme, is educed in the soul by a comprehension of the thought
and not otherwise. It follows hence, that the habit of conduct will be
made and measured by the kind and degree of exercise which the
intellect attains. The limitation of the intellect to its sensuous mode,
to the exclusion of all knowledge concerning the true being of the
universe, must therefore limit the conduct to such forms and degrees
of goodness as are attainable through the sensuous understanding.
As the truths of this never go beyond our mere selfhood, and never
excite any feeling nobler than the sensations, the highest ground of
conduct which they can afford, is that of self-interest To restrict the
conduct to a scheme of ^elf-interest, is therefore the first legitimate
effect of practicalism upon the will.
Now, to fathom the real meaning of this result, we must penetrate
the nature of our being far enough to see that the limitation ia
question amounts to the obstruction of both the inception and die
evolution of the Divine Life, so far as the will has a function in
either.
Our total being is the unity of two moments, called by the Chris-
tian Fathers, Faith and Works. All finite being is truly the self-
determination of the Absolute Being, the self-forming oif God's eternal
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470 The Radical.
thinking or Logos in finitude of time and space. Hence, there is hi
every such being, first, that outgoing and return upon itself of the
divine consciousness which is essential to His infinity ; and, secondly^
this Consciousness is 2\&o formed^ in a triune evolution of reason^
emotion, and will. " In Him we live." Our consciousness, therefore^
resolves itself into, first. Faith, or the undertow of God's thmking set-
ting through us and returning evermore into Himself, — the assurance
of all truth ; and, second. Works, (actuSy hiqyua^ or the procedure of
our being in knowledge, feeling, and doing. Now the Divine Life
consists in this : that Faith, or God in the consciousness, shall be so
united with the Works, and operant in them, that their evolution shall
be in perfect co-ordination, and in perfect actualization of their infin-
ite Grounds in the triune Lord. This operant union must have, then,
both an inception and a development; and both are conditioned
upon our action in will. For the soul as will is not merely the cre-
ator of conduct, but the very essence and germinal dot of our finite
being. It is the life-giving determination of the Father, in which we
are established a personal identity; for as He is neither creating
Reason, nor self-contained Spirit, except as He is self-determining
Father, (avro^o^») so are we neither a knowing nor a feeling but in
virtue of being a will. The function of the will in the Divine Life, is
therefore two-fold. First, as inmost self-essence it b to experience
the regenerative inception of that life, and thence to be evolved into
that sub-conscious disposition which constitutes the basis of spiritual
development. Secondly, its separate, conscious choices, which deter-
mine conduct and re-act into character, are to be regulated according
to truth and right
But upon what conditions are these functions exercised ? In the
state of nature, our will is in a sort of anarchy. Not yet flowing from
the sub-conscious determination, its superficial, conscious choices
have no imity from within, but follow the whim of the moment, or the
season, tossed hither and thither from without. In this state, self-
interest is all th^t preserves to it an identity, and the truths of self-
interest constitute its highest motive. Out of this mere nature, it may
arise through regeneration into life eternal, or lapse into spiritual
death. In the former case, through the discipline of morality, it
gradually frees itself from the infantile subjection to impulse, and is
evolved into the permanent disposition which renders holiness spon-
taneous. In the latter, it descends through the successive stages of
self-delight and selfishness and pure self-will, settling into a disposi-
tion to evil. That it is at all possible for us to pass from the reign
of nature, where Faith is in abeyance, to the freedom of the spirit^
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Speculative Culture. 471
where Faith is operant in accordance with the truth, is due to the
perfect unity of our being. Our conscious identity, although its will
is the fount of all its operative existence^ yet is valid only by its final iden-
tification of knowing, feeling, and will as one and the same content,
namely, a self or person. Hence, in any the least instant, in the very
infinitesimal beginning, we have being only in virtue of the co-action of
our Knowing-feeling-will. It is thus provided that, to our inmost essence
in will itself, the Truth-thinking God shall in some instaht be so pro-
foundly unveiled, even by the mediation of His lowest manifestation,
as to inspire the source of our action with longing after His truth
thenceforth. This is regeneration. Except by such an inspiration of
the truth, it cannot by any means arise. The guiding ray of the
cosmic beauty must have penetrated the secret of our being, and led
us into at least one moment's vision of its method, henceforth ever to
be sought From this moment, I ought is lord within us, forever
transfiguring itself into I love. And truth being thus the condition of
the holy disposition even in its inception, much more is it so in the
evolution of the same. Truth, too, which transcends and annihilates
the whole scheme of self-interest Renounce thyself I cries the redeem-
ing Spirit, God alone is worthy of thy love^ and thou must bring Him
forth into thy deed in the fulness of His thought^ which forever invites
thee / And if the disposition, then again still more is the conduct
dependent upon finding the truth. The perfectly true deed is done,
only when it is discovered; and the deed which embodies our
endeavor after the perfect one, comes not without the sincere search-
ing for the perfect knowledge. The disposition alone, leaves us but
creatures of ethics ; if we would ascend into morality, and thence into
love, we must attain a comprehension of perfect conduct, by sound-
uig the meaning and method of our own being, and indeed of Life
itself!
Impotent, then, for promoting either function of our will in tlie
Divine Life, b any scheme of conduct whose end b merely self-
interest Yet such is the end of practicalism, and such is therefore
its weakness. Neither can it aid us toward the new birth into a holy
disposition, nor light us by one ray toward the conduct in which the
disposition shall have its fitting manifestation. If it lends no light,
still less does it offer invitation. Rather, it diverts and obstructs our
will Ending in self-interest, its direct effect is, at best, to leave the
will in the state of nature. But in this, there can be no long contin-
uance. The lapse from self-interest to self-delight is easy, and usually
apeedy. From self-delight to selfishness, the path inclines broaden-
ing; and beneath, is the abyss of wild self-will. With the descent,
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473 The Radical.
the sentiments are buried deeper under nature, while the sensations
spring and flourish. In the dying of the one, the other lives and
riots. In the turbulent depths of the selfish or wilful spirit, the sen-
sations rage unceasingly, and we behold the incongruous spectacle of
a soul, at the moment of its fiercest revolt against restraint, emptied
of its very essence in will, and put in bonds to passion. Here, tlic
possibilities of heroism are suspended by cowardice, cruelty, lust, and
sordid meanness. Out of nature we have descended into hell. The
Faith once adequate in nature, has sank into the infrequent whisper
of the stifled conscience. From these depths, God alone can raise
us, and not without his flaming terrors. These also shall, perhaps,
be unavailing until the being is shaken asunder and dissolved by the
awful force of crime.
If these results of decay, in intellect, in feeling, in will, — that is,
in Spiritual Power itself — are proper to a life expended in deeds
alone, they should bring with them most significant lessons. That
tiiey follow logically, has been shown : and also, that tiiey record
themselves in the visible experience of the world around us. That
they leave their mark in each one of us, moreover, in so far as we
partake in the utilitarian temper, or fail of exercise in meditative
thought, no one who is acquainted with himself can for a moment
question.
If tiie time permitted, it would be easy to illustrate the truth here
considered, from the widest generalizations upon the tribal gradations
of mankind, from the laws of decay in the dead communities of the
ancient world, and from the history of all living in cities, whether
present or past. Let us hope, however, that it has already been made
clear that, beyond all question. Religion b dependent upon Philosophy.
That it is the saving grace of thinking which sustains in us all what-
ever real virtue we contain ; that it b the actual faith in the supers
sensuous world, the actual, if unacknowledged, working out of s(Mtie
truths each for ourselves, that redeems us from mere materialbm, in
whatever low degree we have attained such redemption ; that it b the
dearth of thinking, which keeps us, so far as we are kept, in the ster^
ility of mere avocation, or in the shallow soil of conventionalbm.
What we do not sufficiently ieel in this day, what we most seriously
need to feel, is that holiness means perfection of being. We are not
conveniently jointed together, so that this or that part which we may
undervalue, can be removed at pleasure. Our being is one and indi-
visible. Deeds, avocations, all our physical uses, become beautiful
and holy, so soon as they are subordinated to our spiritual unity. It
b this unity, whose birth and process are in thought, which consti-
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A Summer Morning Hour. 473.
tutes Religion, by working through the deeds. We need the inspira-
tion of the truth, that what God is working in His perfect Church, the
infallible Civilization, must be reproduced in each of us, if we are to
experience the Divine Life in its fulness. The elements of this are
not exhausted in disposition and conduct alone. As thought builds
the wonder of Christendom, which has no meaning or manifestation
apart from its Religion, its Art, its Science, informing, moulding and
illumining its politics and institutions, so must we build ourselves into
its unity by me^ns of thought,' and cannot in any other way. Thus,
our whole co-operative energy shall become divine. We shall work
the real miracle, transforming brute nature into the fluent interpreter
of spirit The divorce between Religion and Culture shall be an-
nulled in the comprehension that the Absolute Good is one with the
Absolute Truth and Beauty.
A SUMMER MORNING HOUR WITH NATURE.
BY AUGUSTA COOPER KIMBALL.
The Night has gathered up her moonlit fringes,
And curtains grey.
And orient gates, that move on silver hinges.
Let in the Day.
The morning sun his golden eye-lash raises
0*er eastern hills;
The happy summer bird, with matin praises
The thicket fills.
And Nature's dress, with softly tinted ro9e%
And lilies wrought,
Through all its varied unity discloses
God's perfect thought
Great Nature ! hand in hand with her I travel
Adown the mead,
And half her precious mysteries unravel,
Her scripture read.
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474 The Radical.
And while the soft wind lifts her tinted pages.
And turns them o'er,
My heart goes back to one in by-gone ages
Who loved her lore,
And symbols used, of harvest field, and fountain.
And breezy air;
Who sought the sacred silence of the mountain.
For secret prayer.
Oh drop, my soul, the burden that oppresses.
And cares that rule.
That I may prove the whispering wildernesses.
Heaven's vestibule I
For I can hear, despite material warden
And earthly locks,
A still small voice; and know that through his garden
The Father walks.
The fragrant lips of dewy flowers that glisten
Along the sward.
Are whispering to my spirit as I listen,
" It is the Lord."
And forest monarchs tell by reverent gesture
And solemn sigh.
That the veiled splendor of his awful vesture
Is passing by.
The billows witness Him. No more they darkle.
But leap to lave
The silent marching feet, that leave a sparkle
Along the wave.
And sweet aromas, fresher and intenser.
The gales refine ;
The odor floating from the lily's censer.
Is breath divine.
Thus Nature, Heaven's voice, yields precious witness,
And large reply.
To him who comes to her with inward fitness
Of harmony.
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PROFESSIONAL RELIGIOUS CONVERSATION.
BY J. C. LEARNED.
WITH new wisdom and enlightenment there come new usages. Each
age has an aspect of its own with which it is born into the world^
and which distinguishes it from all other ages. The new times
are different from the old. Great changes have crept imperceptibly upon us,
or they have sprung up spontaneously in obedience to the law of develop-
ment or later growth. Whether we accept the " development theory " or
not, he is blind who sees no transformations. The times are not as when
we were children ; and they differ still more from the times when our
fathers were children.
I think no one will deny this ; indeed men commonly assert it, — on
every hand we hear it re-iterated with striking emphasis. And perhaps no
where are the changes which time effects more manifest than in the views
men have of religion, and of religious observances ; at least if the mind or
thought has remained untrammeled and free — if no artificial and arbitrary
checks have been imposed to impede or stifle it. And even there it often
breaks over barriers and takes perforce that liberty which is denied it
But can we properly speak of these changes as progress ? Taking a
general survey of religious opinion and observance to-day, is it an advance
upon past periods ? As an illustration of many points let us consider
the one point of religious conversation, as growing out of the pastoral re-
lation.
Some can remember, but all have heard it related, how the minister of
former times moved among his flock. A man of grave and solemn exterior ; '
with a well-shaven face, not easily relaxing into smiles ; whose very gar- *
ments — save perhaps a white cravat — were of sombre colors, and of a cer-
tain dignified and established £^hion, that permitted no variableness or
change ; having a mode of speech not unfrequently marked by a hollow or
nasal twang, but which allowed no ' idle words ' ; in personal intercourse
at most intimate only with the deacons of his parish, really unrestrained,
and familiar with none ; a man who seemed to desire to impress upon those
about him, that his business was that of saving souls — and a melancholy
business too — which was engaged in, as a sort of fearful but necessary
work which God had * called * or * elected' certain men from the foundation
of the world to undertake — a kind of cross or discipline to be borne in this
world, but which should somehow be greatly compensated in the next, prob-
ably in part by a sight of those souls which they had been instrumental in
saving from the pains of eternal fire.
The minister of the olden time was, and was expected to be, an excep-
tional man, distinguished in many ways from all others. He did little or
nothing in the natural way. He was supposed to have constant dealings
with the great mysteries of Life, Death and Eternity ; and have a certain
knowledge of these subjects which common people could not attain to ; to
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476 The Radical.
have a certain authority to speak on them not granted to average mortals —
even if he did not hold the very keys of Heaven and of HelL In the pres-
ence of the minister the people could not help looking upon their common
life as altogether worldly. He brought into their homes an atmosphere that
made not only their luxuries, but even their comforts reproach them. If
they had any joy or pleasure, his presence immediately made them question
if it were not inconsistent with their etemaPgood. If it was natural it was
for that very reason carnal, and they almost expected to hear his voice de-
nouncing all the pleasant things of this world, as the temptation of the
devil.
He did not join in, he could not sympathize with mere amdsement ; were
not death, and sin, and retribution staring men in the face ? Therefore he
made the world seem an unfit place, and this life an untimely hour for any
pleasure-seeking or merriment And so the minister became scarcely less
a terror and a mystery than the themes with which he dealt The two were
always associated together, until in many an instance the man who was to
be the people's spiritual guide was little else than an inscrutable **'man in
black " or a walking spectre.
His concern, they said, was with spiritual things — he lived not for
worldly ends. To the young he seemed especially forbidding in his mien —
formal, unapproachable, gloomy ; to the children awful as the Great Mogul
who might have commanded them all to be eaten up in a trice, and none
dare gainsay. It would have been degrading to the dignity of a minister of -
the olden times to condescend to talk baby-talk with babies, to chuck the
chins of the little ones, or trot them on his knee ; and they grew up to UxA
upon him as a social iceberg, which no place or climate of humanity could
melt. How often have we been told how the children ran away and hid
themselves when' they learned that the minister was coming, and the young
folks turned pale, and found some excuse to go out, if the minister entered
their homes ! \
Such things were common in the days when a great deal was looked for
from religious conversations ; when it was thought pre-eminently proper
for the minister to converse upon religious matters from house to house.
At certain intervals he regarded it a part of his duty, formally to ascertain
tiie exact religious condition of the families composing his parish, and as it
was a matter of professional business, he went about it in a business way, —
much as a physician would examine a patient afflicted with bodily ails. Ex-
cept that whereas the physician of the body, relied for cure chiefly upon the
pills, powders, and solutions which he carried in his chest ; the doctor of
souls depended greatly upon what he should 'effect by his own looks and
words. Moreover the doctor of physic usually had for his object to make
his patient hopeful and well, while the whole plan of the doctor of souls was
to convince his patient that he was sick — sick unto death — ruined, doomed
and LOST.
And it was only when the poor beleaguered soul gave up and admitted its
mter worthlessness and despair, that this spiritual adviser would allow the
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Professional Religious Conversation. 477
£unte8t gleam of hope to shine upon it A man was required to acknowl-
edge and to believe that he was the vilest and most abandoned of sinners —
a perfect and loathsome wretch — before it was admitted that there was the
least purity or saving grace in him. A man must be damned, and damn
himself^ before he could be saved I Indeed the old Hopkinsons went so hi
as to require that a man should be willing to be damned eternally^ before
the hope of redemption could be safely offered.
And when the minister came to talk on these grave subjects he made no
long preliminary, and took no round-about way to introduce them. It was
a duty to be done, and — however painful it might be to him or others — he
advanced to it directly and boldly. He regarded it as God's requisition,
and woe was upon him if he shrank from the issue. So that many a time
the wife or mother at her domestic duties, the daughter casually met on the
street, the mechanic at his bench, or the farmer in the fields, was brought
to a stand by the minister's inquiry after the state of the heart: inquiries
involving the deepest mysteries of earth and heaven ; involving too, the
most sacred, tender and secret instincts of the soul ! Every calamity that
came upon state or community, every strange or inexplicable event, every
personal misfortune, every death-bed and funeral was liable to be selected
as a providential opportunity for religious conversation — for turning the
mind of this one or that, upon questions that would be sure to baffle it, and
so lead the way to the solemn and authoritative enforcement of the saving
. £uth. In many places it was quite well understood that the minister seldom
or never called except upon religious errands, so that it was customary to
suspend all worldly work as much as though Sunday had come, so long as
he was in the house. If the children or young folks could not be found —
having escaped from his freezing and cadaverous presence — before this
man of God departed the Bible was read, and prayer was offered for them
in the presence of whoever remained.
Of course there have always been — and it seems to me it is to be gladly
admitted— -great exceptions to the class I have described, and the picture
I have drawn ; — men more genial and flexible, somewhat of the world, less
austere. But there have been worse instances which remain well attested,
of men solemn as ^e grave, as if the weight of two worlds rested on them
alone, and besides arbitrary as iron, popes and dictators in the parishes or
towns where they lived, seeming to act upon the conviction that if other
means failed, the right £aiith could be established, and souls compelled into
the kingdom by sheer violence and force.
As the times have changed, however, the old faiths have been modified
and new methods prevail in the place of the old. We still believe in spir-
itual guides and helps, and our churches have increased. The general
object of the ministry we may perhaps say is still unchanged : but the
details and lesser requisitions of the pastoral office are no longer what they
were. And we believe that the deep religious instinct of the people, af e
more respected and better treated than m the olden times. For they a^
better understood. We believe the deepest emotions, the most sacred fed-
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478 * The Radical.
iDgs, and experiences of the soul are not for common conversation or ev^ry
day topic, except to the most kindred spirits ; much less for public and
noisy profession. For we see that it is only when men are unduly wroo^ht
upon by artificial means, and a great straining after effect, that they can be
induced to make a public parade of those most delicate and retiring iiuali-
ties, those naturally sweet and modest feelings that lie deep ^d hidden
[ n the breast, which by their very hiding and diffidence, sanctify the char-
acter and the life, asking no approval but that of a pure conscience, no wit-
ness but the eye of God, but which, dragged to exhibition, are like crumpled
violets or fiowers from which the perfume has departed. For there is no
soul that does not abhor to be laid bare to the gaze of men.
All remember the terrible and uncalled for conditions laid upon Godiva
by the Earl of Coventry, as it is told in ancient story. But it seems to me
that the condition which we have often seen laid upon human souls, is bo
less terrible and uncalled for. When I hear a pure and modest soul called
upon to run the gauntlet of a mixed and staring assembly, or make public
display of its superior beauty and most sacred feeling, I wonder that afl
people do not feel the cruelty of the demand, and shut their ears and turn
away their faces as the people of old Coventry did : sure also that in liaten-
ing to these wordy professions, the religious sense of many is blunted, and
that they lose their power to discriminate between the true and the £Use m
their own bosoms.
It is because we approximate more and more to views like these that
professional religious conversations grow less common among us. It is
not directly, it is only incidentally that we can approach those topics.
Oftentimes the more persons aim at them, the more they foil. The reli-
gious word that is great and to benefit either him who speaks or him who
hears, must arise spontaneously ; if it is artificially effected it is not genuine,
and perishes. Two young pious persons meeting at an evening party, and
not wishing to be too worldly, one said, " what shall we converse about 1 "
Said the other, " Let us speak of Sunday Schools.'' But it is not by malice
prepense that we can always sjay a worldly thought, and cause a spiritual
one to spring up in its place. Recently one who was foremost in the get-
ting up and management of a revival in a certain New Hampshire town,
quartered himself upon a young man for a talk concerning the condition and
safety of his soul. They had never spoken together on the subject before,
yet the first question of the revivalist was "What do you think of God,
Hell, and the Devil ! " Abrupt, and even blasphemous, as such an assault
seems, it was made by no illiterate or uneducated man in the common use
of those words, nor was it made upon one guilty of any immorality, or
greater sin than that of leaning towards a Liberal Faith. Surely the reviv-
alist was ignorant of the very alphabet of human nature, but fanaticism
knows no bounds. Not thus do men find the way to the finest chords of
sacred emotion. What is the influence of such speech to that of a silent
life I The speech that is always betraying a plan but indifferently suc-
ceeds!
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Professional Religious Conversation. 479
One spoke great praise of another when he said " We have often talked
together on religious questions that concerned us deeply, and he influenced
me very much, but I never knew or thought he was going to speak with me
about them, — I could never tell where we left our secular topic for our
religious one, but they blended together or grew out of each other so that
they seemed wedded together by natural bonds. This natural and easy
transition showed how near that man's religion lay to his daily life ; a true
religion only underlies it
The deepest emotions which we experience concerning divine things
when they have their greatest control over us, are pained at the very
thought of publicity, and instead of making us indiscriminately talkative,
oftener make us utterly dumb ; even as the deepest grief we know is not
loud and clamorous, but is wordless, and sometimes tearless. Therefore
when our friends are bowed by the burden of a great sorrow we dread to
mention it Uncertain that our words can afford the slightest relief^ we are
careful to make them few. So, it is with great diffidence that we invade
the realm of the sacred instincts. We may jar and harm where we would
gladly help and harmonize. We believe the true religious feeling is rather
meditative than talkative. Even so pious a man as the celebrated author
of the " Spirit of Prayer " shrapk from contact with, and discouraged those
who sought to enter with him upon religious themes. And Montaigne said
as a general truth, what is especially applicable when the subject is religious
experience, that '* silence and modesty are most advyitageous qualities in
conversation." The minister, then, of our day instead of going from house
to house to force an expression upon these questions, rather helps the peo-
ple by hints to work them out for themselves ; or stands accessible and
ready if any one asks assistance to say what in his power lies, to give
strength and comfort to the earnest soul. For in spiritual matters it is only
when the want is felt that the word can heal.
Does any one still say that the ancient days were better than these ?
Would any rather go b"5tefc-{t.gener5Gon than to live in this present ? There
may be here and there one ^ghing for the good old times ; but we can only
be sorry for those who tSus turn their faces backward. For we are sure
that such have outlived their hope. All that is joyous and cheerful in life
has gone out for them : one can only read sadness and disappointment in
their countenances.
But let not many of us feel thus, lest in our lack of faith some evil thing
befall us ; lest in failing to appreciate the good gifts of our own times, we
become unworthy of them and they be taken from us.^ Let us be sure that
God smiles upon these latter times, yea, and even more propitiously than
upon any past No doubt he makes his universe, better every day, for we
believe in progress. We refuse to believe that everything is sliding back-
ward to destruction or to chaos. We believe therefore that the great
changes which we see written upon human society are for the best We
believe that God himself is working in and through them. We believe that
we have gained rather than lost — gained greatly — in the change of method
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480 The Radical.
incident to religious observances, and religious communion. And we antici-
pate other changes, and we shall welcome those also if by any means we
can keep up with the times, out of which they will have their birth. AVfaat
changes there will be we cannot pre-determine ; the new age institutes its
own. •
The true minister of torday is not a priest, but a citizen. He is distia-
guished by no garb of office, nor is he thought more of for assuming a der*
ical stateliness or dignity. We hope he is no longer pointed out to the
children as a special object of awe and terror, to frighten them into good
behavior. Indeed, we suppose he is now generally thought of — not as a
spectre, or as it has been phrased ** a machine to grind out pious words "
at all times on demand — but as made of flesh and blood, even as other
men, with somewhat similar feelings and similar needs : by no means per-
fect in all his ways, or final authority in all his words ; but by God's grace
seeking to realize the responsibility and duty of his position, as one who
desires to help his fellow men in those things wherein we all need help, and
in view of which we have churches and religious ordinances, whereat we
all assemble for worship and communion, and our mutual edification.
REFORMATORY^ INSTITUTIONS IN MASSACHUSETTS.
AND THE
Present State of the Laws relating to them.
by f. b. sanborn.
[Read at the Reform School Conference, June 5, 1866.]
Mr. President and Members of the Conference :
The Committee which invited this assemblage of benevolent and public
spirited persons to meet in this city, the capital of Massachusetts, deemed
it fitting that you should be welcomed, at your coming, by the Governor of
the Commonwealth — an agreeable duty, which His Excellency deeply re-
grets that his previous engagements prevent him from performing. They
also desired that some statement of the number and character of our Re-
formatories should be laid before you, previous to your visits to any of our
Institutions, and that the general course and present condition of our legis-
lation on this subjed should be indicated, that you might have the means
of judging how fully our actual establishments carry out the spirit of our
laws.
Having been requested to undertake this task, I shall ask your indul-
gence while I devote a half hour to the points which I have specified.
There are two great classes of Reformatories in all countries which have
yet established them, Private and Public Institutions ; the former .being
controlled and supported by private benevolence, and the latter by public
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Reformatory Institutions. 481
officers and revenues. But it is evident that there may be as many classes
of Public Reformatories as there are public bodies in the community ; and
since we have in New England three well defined ci n\ organizations — the
SMe, the County^ and the Municipality ^ (Town cr City) — we may, and
actually do find Reformatories supported by each of these public bodies.
So that, besides Private Reformatories, like the Farm School, on Thomp-
son's Island, we have Municipal Reformatories like the Boston House of
Reformation, on Deer Island, and the Lowell Reform School, County Re-
formatories in embryo, and State Reformatories. Of the latter we have
three, the State Reform School for Boys at Westborough ; the State In-
dustrial School for Girls at Lancaster ; and the School Ships, both now
lying in our harbor, but of which one, the Massachusetts, is soon to be
transferred to New Bedford.
The oldest of our Reformatories, strictly speaking, is the Boston House
of Reformation, which was authorized by the Legislature in 1826, and
opened in June, 1827. This establishment was modelled after the New York
House of Refuge, which had been opened about two years earlier. It is
entirely under the management of the City Government, and for some years
past has been controlled by the Board of Directors for Public Institutions.
It receives both boys and girls, has received in all 2,826 pupils, con-
tains now about 200 pupils, and is located on Deer Island, about four miles
down our harbor. Its inmates are at present almost all truants, arrested
under the various truant laws of the Commonwealth.
The Boston Asylum and Farm School, which occupies a position inter-
mediate between a Reformatory and an Orphan Asylum, was incorporated
in 1833, and opened on its present basis in 1835. ^^ >s strictly a private
establishment, has never been assisted by the State, and does not wish to
be. It owns Thompson's Island, in Dorchester Bay, about four miles
southward along our coast, and contains now about ninety boys.
The State Reform School at Westborough is an offshoot of the Farm
School, having been founded by General Theodore Lyman, who was for
many years a manager of the Farm School. It was established, however,
by the State, in 1847, was opened in 1848, and has since been almost en-
tirely supported from the State Treasury. The number of boys admitted
here has been 3,333 ; the present number is 312 ; they are employed on the
farm, which is large, and partly in mechanical labor.
In 1854, the State est2U>lished a similar School for Girls at Lancaster,
which was opened in 1856. In this establishment, however, the Family
System was instituted from the beginning, whereas it has only prevailed in
part at Westborough since i860.
The Industrial School at Lancaster has received about 500 pupils ; the
present number is 154. It is entirely supported from the State Treasury,
and, like the Westborough School, is under the management of seven
Trustees, appointed by the Governor and Council.
In 1859, ^^ consequence partly of the burning down of a portion of the
buildings at Westborough, the State established what was then called the
<< Nautical Branch of the State Reform School," on board the School Ship
3
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482 The Radical.
Massachusetts^ for older boys, and for such as might choose a seaman^s
life. This establishment, which is now almost entirely unconnected with
the Westborough School, contains at present about 220 boys, on board two
ships — the George M. Barnard hsiying been added to the Massachusetts
during the last year. The whole number of boys admitted here has been
1 143, of whom between one and two hundred had previously been at West-
borough, and were transferred from there.
We have, therefore, y?^r large public Reformatories in Massachusetts,
containing at the present time nearly 900 children in all, 695 boys and 183
giris.
We have one large private Reformatory, if I may give that name to the
Farm School, containing about ninety boys. ^The legislation imder which
these five establishments have grown up, dates back for at least forty years.
Much earlier than this date, however, there were orphan asylums estab-
lished, and these, udder various names, and approximating by almost im-
perceptible gradations towards Reformatories, are now very numerous.
Exactly how many there are in the State no one can say, for new ones are
continually springing up. In the second Report of the Board of Charter,
however, mention is made of thirteen such establishments, which is proba-
bly not more than half the actual number. These are all private institu-
tions, making no regular report to the public authorities, so that it is not
easy to collect their statistics. One or two of them contain a large number
of children, but generally speaking they are small, containing, perhaps, at
the present time, about 800 children in the aggregate.
If we return now to the consideration of public institutions on a smaller
scale than the four already mentioned, we find a number of Truant Schools,
under divers names, in the large towns and cities of the Commonwealth.
These are perhaps a dozen in number ; they have been established, for the
most part, under the Truant Law of 1862, and are yet in the first stage of
experiment. But this cannot be said of the Lowell Reform School — the
largest of the class — which was opened in 185 1, shortly after die State Re-
form School was organized, and has done much good in checking vice
among the young in LoweU.
Another class of public Reformatories in Massachusetts has been desig-
nated by law, but not 3ret established. I refer to County Houses of Refor-
mation, which, by Chapter 208 of 1865, the County Commissioners of the
several counties are. allowed to provide. I have lately written to these of-
ficers throughout the State, to ascertain what steps have been taken to
carry out this provision of law, and I hope that we may hear from some of
them at our Conference.
Turning now to the course of legislation in regard to neglected and
vicious children, to the laws under which these numerous establishments
have grown up, we shall find that those laws themselves indicate a gradual
awakening of the community to a sense of its duty towards these unhappy
members of it
The early provision made in Massachusetts for general instruction in
learning and morality is well known, and was for a time, no doubt, sufficient
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Reformatory Institutions. 483
to keep the class of ignorant and depraved children quite smalL But as
our population increased, and the disturbing elements of new races and
alien religions were introduced, poverty became more permanent, and juve-
nile vice more common. At first, the powers granted to overseers of the
poor in our towns and cities were so exercised as to provide for neglected
children, and when these were inadequate, individual charity carried on the
work. But soon societies were incoiporated to manage this increasing
task, and, from 1800 to 1850 these societies multiplied and were of great
service, as they still are. The interference of the magistrates, however,
which was recognized as necessary in 1826, when the Boston House of
Reformation was incorporated, became the settled policy of Massachu-
setts about 1850 ; and the power of committing neglected and vicious chil-
dren to institutions supported by the public revenue, has been fully exer-
cised by all our judges for nearly twenty years. And Ais power has
been gradually extended, either by recognizing new causes of commitment^
or by increasing the means of receiving sentenced children, until now it is
very wide.
During the session of the General Court, which has just closed, a new
step has been taken in this matter. We have three State Almshouses, at
which there is an average of 600 school children the year round — most of
them belonging to the cla$s from which our young vagrants and criminals
come. These children are about half orphans, or else deserted by parents
who are imworthy to take charge of them. Of the other hal^ the majority
would probably lead better lives if they could be at once separated from
their parents, whose influence, either in a positive or negative way, is bad.
Now these 600 children have heretofore been styled and treated as pau-
pers. Their schools, however good they might be, were pauper schools,
their associates were paupers, their dress, their food, their' whole govern-
ment was that of an almshouse. The wise and humane Legislature of
1866 saw the evil of this, and opened the way for a change. By the ** State •
Primary School Act," passed about a month ago, it is enacted that so many
of these chiklren as can be separated from the mass of pauperism in our
almshouses, shall be gathered in a special school, where they shall cease to
be called paupers, and where the influences around them shall be of a
• higher order. This school is located at Monson, near Springfield ; it will
gather together, when full, perhaps 500 children, from four to sixteen years
old. These children will be carefully taught, and, as soon as it can well be
done, will be provided with places in good families' in the central and
western parts of the State.
Besides the Act just mentioned, two other Acts relating to poor children
were passed by the Legislature which recently adjourned. The first of
these, (Chapter 273, 1866,) relates to the employment of children in manu-
fi&cturing establishments, and was firamed in accordance with the spirit;
though not in the precise terms of the recommendation of the Labor Com-
mission of 1865. The Act provides that an amount of schooling double
that heretofore required by law, or six months in a year, shall be given to
9ll children employed in £actories, both before they enter and while they
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484 The Radical.
continue to work there, and it fixes the age at which a child can lawfuUj be
employed in a factory, at ten years ; while between ten and fourteen years,
eight hours is a day's work. Moreover, it entrusts the execution of this
law not to the School Committees of the cities and towns alone, but to the
State Constabulary, which has shown itself a very efficient police force.
The defect of the former law on this subject was that it was very ofien dis-
regarded, and prosecutions under it were seldom brought by school com-
mittees, who, being local officers, were under the influence of the sentiment
in their locality. The State Constables will have no such reason for neg-
lecting violation of the law, and it is hoped that much good will result from
it, in keeping poor children at school, and away from demoralizing influ-
ences. Whether the direct result will be to diminish juvenile crime may
be doubted, but it must have that effect ultimately, if well enforced.
The last Act to which I shall refer is one '' concerning the care and edu-
cation of neglected children," (Chapter 283, 1866.)
The following is the Act referred to ; it differs fh)m the well known Tru-
ant Law of 1862, (Chap. 207,) in several particulars, among which may be
noted :
1. It is optional and not obligatory, so £ur as the towns are concerned.
2. It is more general in its scope, not being confined to truants.
3. It allows a sentence during minority^ instead of for two years.
4. It repeals the Truant Law of 1862, in the city of Boston.
Bi it inactedy &*c^ as follows :
Sect. i. Each of the several cities and towns in this Commonwealth is
hereby authorized and empowered to make all needful provisions and ar-
raneements concerning children under sixteen years of age, who, by reason
of uie neglect, crime, drunkenness or other vices of parents, or from or-
phanage, are suffered to be growing up without salutary parental coatr^
and education, or in circumstances exposing them to lead icUe and dissolute
lives ; and may also make all such by-laws and ordinances respecting such
children, as shall be deemed most conducive to their welfu-e and the good
order of such city or town ; provided, that said by-laws and ordinances
shall be approved by the Supreme Judicial Court, or any two justices
thereof, and shall not be repu^ant to the laws of the Commonwealth.
Sect. 2. The mayor and aldermen of cities and the selectmen of towns
availing themselves of the provisions of this Act shall severally appoint
suitable persons to make complaints in case of violations of sudi ordinances
or by-laws as may be adopted, who alone shall be authorized to make com-
plaints under the authori^ of this Act
Sect. 5. When it shall be proved to any judge of the Superior Court, or
judge or justice of a Municipal or Police Court, or to any tnal justice, that
any child under sixteen years of age, by reason of orphanage or of the neg-
lect, crime, drunkenness or other vice of parents, is growing up without
education or salutary control, and in circumstances exposing said child to
an idle and dissolute life, any judge or justice aforesaid, shall have power
to order said child to such institution of instruction or other place that may
be assigned for the purpose, as provided in this Act, by tiie authorities of
the city or town in which such child may reside, for such term of time as
said judge or justice may deem expedient, not extending beyond the a£;e of
twenty-one years for males, or eighteen years for females, to be therekept,
educated and cared for according to law.
Sect. 4. Whenever it shall be satisfactorily proved that the parents of
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Reformatory Institutions. 485
any child committed under the provisions of this Act, shall have reformed
and are leading orderly and industrious lives, and are in a condition to ex*
ercise salutarv parental control over their children, and to provide them
with proper eaucation and employment ; or whenever said parents being
dead, any person may offer to make suitable provision for the care, nurture
and education of such child as will conduce to the public welfare, and will
give satis£au:tory security for the performance of the same, then the direc-
tors, trustees, overseers or other board having charge of the institution to
which such child may be committed, may discharge said child to the
parents or to the party making provision for the care of the child as
aforesaid.
Sect. 5. Chapter two hundred and seven of the Acts of the year eighteen
hundred and sixty-two, shall not apply to, nor have effect within the city of
Boston, after the passage of this Act [Approved May 29^ 1866.
This is a supplement to existing laws on the subject of Truantcy, and of
itself perhaps, will produce no new result But if the public attention
awakened by the Conference and by other agencies, shall be turned to
the subject, both this and the previous law will be so executed as to im-
prove the condition of poor children, and to lessen juvenile crime.
Such, members of the Conference, has been the latest legislation in this
Commonwealth on the subjects which we have met to discuss. Other
States and commimities have gone as fsu* in some directions, and, very
likely, in alL But no community can go too far, either in enacting such
laws or in developing a public sentiment which will insist on their faithful
execution. In this matter we are not simply protecting society against the
attacks of an army of young criminals — we are not legislating to protect
property and morals alone — but we are discharging a most sacred trust
The duty which we owe to our own children every parent must feel ; but
the duty which we owe to these unfortunate children of whom we speak, is
no less imperative. Let me quote the language of Miss Mary Carpenter,
of Englai^ — a lady who has done more than any living person to amelio-
rate the condition of neglected children — and who discussed the subject
very ably in a paper read before the International Philanthropic Congress
in 1862. Says Miss Carpenter:
'^ By the order of Providence, the young and immature being is placed
under the guidance of parents, bound by every motive, and by the laws of
man as weU as the instinct of nature, to nurture and protect him. But if
deprived of this protection, from whatever cause, it is the duty of the State,
and of society, to take charge of the child, to be to it in loco parentis. And
further, every child bom in a Christian and civilized country, has a right to
demand such protection, such help. He has a right to expect a better con-
dition than if left neglected in a savage and heathen country ; there the
wild instincts of nature would have awakened compassion, and secured care
in untutored heathens. Here where, if he grows to manhood, he must take
his place in a civilized community, and will be compelled to obey its laws,
he has a right to expect such education as will enable him, when arrived at
maturity, to take his proper station in society. Such we hold to be the dis-
tinct duty of the State, such the rights of the neglected child. And if the
State neglects this duty, then, instead of beinc; sustained and strengthened
by good citizens, she will ever have that someming rotten in her social con-
dition which will undermine her resources ; and she must annually spend
8*
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486 The Radical.
thousands or mUHonsy eanidd by honest indiistr3r, in the cvreef diseMe «he
has herself caused.
'* Let it be assumed, then^ that every child who is without the guardiaa-
ship appointed for it by the Creator — proper parental care — has a right
to claim fixnn the State such tutelage ; and that it is the duty of Uie State
to assume the control and education of such children.
'* To some this will seem a self-evident proposition, almost unnecossary
to state — some will dispute it I will, however, leave it to others to argue
it ; it can be proved by reference to the highest authorities ; I must not now
delayto do so.
'* There is, however, another and most important element in our social
condition which must not be passed by — the Christian element We know
well the verdict of Christianity in this matter. This care for children, whom
no ties of blood have united to us, is the direct result of the teachinj^ of
the Saviour ; and no feature of a Christian nation more forcibly distinguishes
it from others, than institutions where children who are neglected, scorned,
and degraded in social position are received as in a home, educated and
prepared for that state of life in which it shall please God to place them.
The State and a Christian society must help each other in this woiic ;
neither can do it efiedively without the other. The State, having alone the
power, must supply the authority, and such pecuniary means as are needed
for the maintenance of the child ; the benevolent, the Christians, must give
the loving labor and such supplementary contributions as are needed."
It would be difficult to make a better statement than Miss Carpenter has
here given of the respective duty of the State and of individuals. In Mas-
sachusetts, and, I believe, in several other States of our Union, the task of
the legislator has been better performed than that of the Christian commu-
nity. Our laws, though £ur from perfect, are now more than sufficient for
the work which we give them to do. It is we ourselves — it is the churches
and the community of New . England and New York, and the great West,
that are not accomplishing the work given us to da We, the citizens of
the country, uniting in benevolent activity according to our means and op-
portxmities, have the power to make our beneficent laws fertile in good re-
sults, and then to amend still further the laws themselves.
TWO PHOTOGRAPHS.
BY MONCU&K D. CONWAY.
I HAVE been gazing with curiosity upon two photographs. One of
these shows me a man of about fifty years, though the photograph shows
this only under a magnifier, with a strong German forehead, small
sharp eyes, thin lips, active chin (as the physiognomists say,} and a well-
shaped form. He is smartly dressed, and sits looking intently at a prima"
donnay in costume, who sits on the other side of the table. The man is
Bismarck ; the opera-singer is Pauline Lucca. Why these should be in the
same picture I know not ; but there is in my eyes something particularly
striking in her being near Count Bismarck. The eiq>res8ion of the man's
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Twb Photograj)hs. 487
hot is precisely as if a kind of ^niin admiiadoA lor an opera-sh^^ repre-
sented his entire extent of a^ctional and unpolitical nature. For iht rest,
he is a man who would be found, if anatomized, to have a secret treaty
under his bump of amativeneas, and a bundle of diplomatic dispatches in
the place usually occupied by a heart So at least reports that one reporter
that will not lie —the sim. I have Ibund recently, in London, a brief Imo>
graphical notice of Bismarck, which I condense here. Accordi^ to this aio-
count, the Count was bom at Schsenhausen, on the Elbe, in 1814, and claims
lineal decent from some ancient chief of a powerful Sclavonic tribe. A
learned German in London has however assured me that this daim is un»
founded, and that Bismarck belongs to the secondary aristocracy of Prussia,
which may account for his desire to out-^ory the Tories. He studied at the
Universities <^ Gottingen, Berlin and Greifiswald, became volunteer in the
infantry, was made member of the Diet of Saxony in 1846, and of the
general Diet in the following year. The singular vivacity of his language,
and his irrepressible tendency to start some bold and audacious paradox,
which he then maintained with remarkable vigor and ability, quickly fixed
tiie attention of political people. One of the theories which he expounded
in this fashion was to the effect that large cities were centres of all that was
mischievous and wrong — that they were obnoxious in the highest degree
to the general wel£u'e of nations, and ought to be destrc^ed as hotbeds of
evil principles. The refvolution of 1848 had the effect of completely con-
firming M. Bismarck in his absolute tendencies. The King had attentively
watched the career of the young statesman whose political views were so emi-
nentiy acceptable to him, and in 1851 M. Bismarck was invited to enter the
diplomatic service. His talents were, it would appear, quite understood from
the first ; for soon afterward, the post of Prussian representative in Frank-
fort was vacant, it was certain that difficult and delicate questions would
then require to be discussed and settied, and Bismarck was appointed.
Whether anjrthing occured here to wound Ins susceptibilities or irritate his
dogmatic and overbearing temper cannot be actually ascertained ; but un-
doubtedly from that period may be dated his constant manifestations of
enmity towards Austria. He never lost any opportunity of declaring that
Austria was not only the hereditary foe of Prussia, but was a common
source of danger to Germany, and disquiet and uneasiness to the whole of
Europe. Though, in point of £&ct, Austria always has been, and in the na-
ture of things always must be, a conservative Power rather than otherwise,
sluggish in commencing war, and more often condemned to defend herself
than to attack others, by continual reiteration these accusations received a
certain amount of credit The Prussian liberals did indeed dislike M. Bis-
marck, but not with that bitterness with which a man is said to regard the
enemies in his own household. At any rate, they detested Austria more :
and when in 1862 M. Bismarck was sent to Vienna, and contributed largely
to the exclusion of Austria from the ZoUverein, organizing a systematic
opposition to Count Rechberg, the hatred of liberal and constitutional prin-
ciples which has always distinguished the Prussian Minister was apparently
forgiven if not forgotten. In 1858 a remarkable brochure aiq>eared, entitied,
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488
The Radical.
'' La Prusse et la Question Italienne," in which an alliance of Pmssiay
Russia, and France was advocated as the sure means of establishing a Ger-
man unity which should be at once safe and honorable : of course it was to
be under the guardian care of Prussia. There is hardly any doubt that M.
Bismarck, if he did not actually write this pamphlet, inspired it, and superin-
tended its introduction into the world ; and this fact gives a light whereby
to read his character, for i( would seem that he is not only despotic in action,
but that, contrary to the generally accepted idea, he has patience, theory and
daring, and can " bide his time.*' In I859, ^* Bismarck was sent as ambas-
sador to St. Petersburg, and remained for three years at the Court of the
Czar. Whatever influence he may have acquired there will probably remain
barren except under certain circumstances which are not very likely to
arise. When M. Bismarck left St. Petersburg he was for about six montha
ambassador at Paris, and was summoned hence to Berlin to officiate in the
double capacity of Minister of Foreign Affiurs and Master of the King's
Household. This was in 1862. At that time Prussia was a prey to inter-
nal conflict, carried on, however, with a phlegmatic, calm, and cumberous
•loMmess which were both incomprehensible and vexatious to English poli-
ticians. The Lower Chamber steadily resisted the military reorganizatioiiy
which tended to weaken the Landwehr as much as it would strengthen the
standing army. That in this matter the members were guided by a wise
instinct is shown by the reluctance of the Landwehr to commence hostili-
ties in the present unjust quarrel, whereas M. Bismarck's strength lies in
the readiness of professional soldiers to engage in any quarreL The
budget then was condemned by an immense majority, but the Upper House
approved of it, and the session was abruptly closed by royal mandate. M.
Bismarck contined in power, and his administration was distinguished by
extreme rigor towards the press. In 1863, an address was presented by
the deputies to the King, in which the Minister was straitly charged with
having violated the Constitution. Soon after the Polish revolution broke
out, and contributed not a little to the difficulties of the Government. A
secret treaty was concluded with Russia on the 8th of February in 1863,
and as soon as the Chamber was cognizant of the fact, a vote of censure
was passed against the Ministry. M. Bismarck was nothing daunted
thereby, and his conduct at that time may indicate what we are to expect of
him generally. He became more than ever inflexible and headstrong.
His apparent success in the Danish question did not, however, alter the
hostile attitude of the Liberal party towards him, and in June, 1865, a
storm broke in which constitutional rights and principles were efibctually
trampled on by the audacious Minister.
Such are the chief points in the career of the man who at the age of fifty
gained from his countrymen the name of Der Mann von Blut und eisen
(the man of blood and iron,) and who, though he has received from Louis
Napoleon the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, has had his name tra-
vested in the boulevards of Paris into a new verb, " bismarquer " — signi-
fying to cheat at cards. Such is the man on whom German mothers are
invoking the vengeance of God this day, for tearing their husbands, sons
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Two Photographs. 489
and brothers' away to fight for no better cause than that Bismarck desires
to be the Napoleon I.'s avator in Europe. He has the strength of a giant
80 long as the poor weak King, whom he never permits out of his presence,
is under his &tal influence ; and he shrinks not fh>m using it like a giant
Turning to the other photograph, I recognize the fece of a young man
whom I once met at the house of Karl Blmd, the schokir, statesman and
exile of Germany, whose home in London is the home also of many noble
spirits whom despotism has cast out and England welcomed. Sometimes
I have felt that with Freiligrath, Kinkel, and others, the real Germany was
being modelled around the table of Karl Blind, where also Mazzini, Ledru
Rollin, Louis Blanc and others also are brothers. It was when Garibaldi
was in London that I saw, without remarking much, the youth whose por-
trait I now speak of — the portrait of Ferdinand Blind, who hurled his life
against the " man of blood and iron." A good-looking, bright German youth
it would seem, made for happiness instead of for tragedy. One would look
to see him whirling finely in a gymnasium. And indeed Ferdinand Blind,
who at the age of twenty-two made his attack on the life of Coimt Bismarck,
which ended in his own death, passed nearly all of his life in England,
where he was educated, winning the first prize as a rifleman, and the silver
oar in a regatta. He was the step-son of Karl Blind, whose family are re-
markable for intellectual gifts and culture. But Ferdinand seemed anxious
only for a healthy country life, and seemed almost too unambitious. He
left England with the intent of Studying agriculture in Germany, and located
himself on a farm near Tubmgen, where he at the same time attended lec-
tures at the university. He was eighteen when he went there to live; <
about two and a half years afterward he went to an academy at Hohenheim
where Agriqpltural Science is taught Here his mind seems to have re-
ceived a singularly fine growth ; he studied earnestly and wrote several arti-
cles, which were well received. He became the chief spokesman on many
occasions of his fellow-students, and received various testimonials firom
professors for capacity and conduct He wrote to his friends in London
when he left this academy, in the most cheerful strain — of nature, of fruit-
trees, and his graftings, on the £uin to which he had now returned. How
swiftly was the sunshine of this young life to be overclouded ! The profes-
sors had persuaded him to make a tour through Germany and visit difierent
farms, that he might extend his agricultural knowledge before returning to
England. He started off in the highest spirits from among friends, waving
his handkerchief and entering into a land full of the glory of spring. But,
alas ! it is sometimes in the power of one fell spirit to wither up the spring
more than many firosts. He found as he went from town to town, house to
house, on every side, Germany in mourning. The rich found no joy, the
poor wet their hardly-earned bread with their tears. And each of these
named but one name as the cause of this sorrow — Bismarck I '^ As I
wandered," so ran the youth's letters to a dear firiend, a letter opened, I be-
lieve, after his death, ^through the dooming fields of Germany, that were
so soon to be crushed under the iron heel of war, and aaw the numbers of
youth pass by that were to lose their lives ibr the selfish aims of a few, tho
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49^ The Radical.
thought came quite spontaneously to punish the cause of so much evil, <
if It were at the sacrifice of my own life. Only afiter I was firmly decided
did I become calmer. At ten o'clock at night I left Carlsbad for Toplitz,
whence I should be able to proceed by train. Heavy clouds, firom which
tiie lightnings flashed, lay piled up on the horizon, and pressed down heavi^
upon the mountain-peaks. The rain poured in torrents. In the mountains
there was a large Are which lit up Ae heavens." Arrived at Berlin he coa-
cludes his letter thus : ** I assure you that I do not rush into this onder-
taldng without mature consideration. I am young ; the world is open to
me ; it is with regret tliat I part with life. Everybody agrees in this» that
if Bismardc were to abdicate, the war, at least the civil war, could still be
prevented. If he is put aside, the same result may be brought about It is
■urely worth an efibrt, to save many lives by the sacrifice of two."
These were the last words ever received firom this young man ; for La-
marck will not permit even the tears of a mother, still finesh, to mnfix)in
his clutch the final adieu of her son.
We all know how it ended. The iron-dad breast was saved, and the
patriot lay dead at die feet of German3r's despot By the Hght of tordics,
at midnight, far away in a crypt, in utter silence, the young man who gave
his life for his fiitherland is buried. Bismarck has the triumph of plunging
Europe into war. But no genuine deed is utterly powerless in this worid.
The blow that the youth aimed was the blow of all Germany ; and Germanj
even now kisses this picture of the young heh) with tears, whilst it execrates
the tyrant with his heritage of triumphant wrong.
Let none here speak of the great sin oi assassination ; let that be left as
tiie fiction of despots. Whether war be wrong, is another question ; but
whether it be the collision of armies, or the collision between John Brown
with a score of comrades and slavery, or a youth encountering the throne
of Germany with a pistol-^ it is all the same ; it is war. Tyrants hate
assassination of despots because it is the only method by which the weak
can equalize themselves with die strong. They who trample on law, too
plead the law I Those who slaughter thousands too prate against regicide 1
I do not approve of the method in many cases ; but I do believe that the
deed of Ferdinand Blind was inspired by the noblest feeling ; that it was a
deed of pure self-sacrifice by a young man fi>r whom life had unusual
charms, (for he had evidendy determined in any event that he himself mus
die,) and that it was therefore as genuine and necessary as any flash of the
lightning which he saw on die horizon when die purpose arose in his mind,
and, amid the storm, he became cahn.
And believing as I do with Wadsworth, that rfalfy ^ all virtue dodi sue*
ceed," I shall hereafter see a certain invisible spirit struggling with Count
Bismarck ; a spirit which cannot be resisted by any coat of mail ; and ex-
pects the seeming failure of Ferdinand Blind to be proved in the end the
sheath of a more consummate success. War and violence are only tolera*
ble, only true, when they thus leap fiY>m earnest human hearts, thrustu^
aside the human will, scorning precedents ; each are the thunderbolts of
God ; they do not miss their aim.
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BCMDK NOTICES.
AiauticAK SoaAL Science Association. Constitution, Addresses,
AND List of Members of the American Assooation for the Pro-
motion op Social Science, with the questions proposed for Discus-
sion, to which are added, Minutes of the Transactions of the Association.
July, 1866.
We have received this pamphlet, which consists of sixty-four pages, and
contains matter of great interest It is a record of the first year's valuable
work in which this Association has engaged. The discussions turn upon
a variety of topics, and in some instances are very able.
The Reform School Conference, which met at the State House on the
5th of June, and kept in session three days, was called hjr the American
Association, and some account of its proceedings are here gven.
On the first day papers were read by F. B. Sanborn, of Concord, (which
he has furnished us for publication), 6. J. Butts, of Hopedale, Rev. Mr.
Toles, of Boston, and by Rev. C. F. Barnard, who read a paper written by
Rev. G. W. Holls, Superintendent of the Orphan's Farm School at Zelie-
nople, Penn. His subject was, TA€ European Reformatories, as compared
with those of America.
The essay by Mr. Butts, was upon " Vagrancy and its Causes," in which
l3ie labor question was largely concerned, 9ie assumption beine that, to a
great extent, vagrancy resulted from the imequal distribution of the fruits
and burdens of kibor.
The essay by Rev. Mr. Toles, Superintendent of the Baldwin Place
Home for little Wanderers, was upon the object and the beneficial resujts
of this institution. So successful nad it been that homes could be found
for a greater number of children than the House could supply.
Nearly five hundred children had' been received in the Home, of all the
various classes which furnish young vagrants, and which Mr. Toles de-
scribed in detail. The success of this new establishment had been very
gratifying.
There was, on the second day, a general attendance of the Conference at
the State Reform School, in Westlx>rough, where, after an examination of
the establishment, a session was held in the chapel, and different papers
read and discussed, a report of which is to appear in the printed report of
the Conference.
On the third day the delegates visited the Industrial School at Lancas«
ter, Mass. A report of this visit, the papers read, and of the discussions,
will also appear in the report of the Conference.
" The Third General Meeting of the Association, which will include the
Second Annual Meeting, will be held in New Haven, Conn., on Tuesday,
the '9th of October, 1806, at 10, A. M. Notice of papers to be presented,
or the papers themselves, should be sent to the Recording Secretary before
the first of October. The first business on Wednesday, the loth, will be
the election of officers for the year, after which provision will be made for
printing the Transactions for IWS5-6, for the annual assessment, and other
matters of business. All members, whether Regular, Honorary or Corres-
ponding, are invited to communicate papers on such topics as they may se-
kct ; preference being given to those indicated on pages 18 — 24 of this
pamphlet"
^ The paper by Mr. Sanborn, elsewhere printed, though partially reported
in other papers, will prove, we think, of so much interest to our readers,
tiiat we are glad to be able to furnish it for them in full.
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49^ The Radical.
Sexual Physiology: A Scientific and popular Exposition of the Funda-
mental Problems in Sociology. By R. I. Trall, M. D. New York and
London: 1866. pp. xiv. 312.
We agree with the writer of this volume, that a great deal of social mis-
ery, and much ill health, disgust and infelicity in matrimony, result from
, the popular ignorance on matters that relate to sex and to the conception
of children. The passions of men need to be restrained by knowled^, if
they cannot be rebuked by the presence of moral and religious feeling. If
American women are notoriously careless about their health, are lovers of
in-door life, and dislike to make their (jb-ess and customs conform to a ca-
pricious climate, it is certain that the young men err most profoimdly when
they import their reckless temper into the estate of marriage, and subject
the unconscious woman to something worse than her own delicate health.
We have no objection to see the subject stated plainly in clear type. Amer-
ican women have too many children, and have them too often when every
physical condition imperatively calls for repose and immunity. The expe-
rience of life teaches us that woman should have the control of her own
person ; for the soundness and happiness of her children are involved in it.
We like to see the fact put plainly before the consideration of men, to make
an appeal to them against their indiscriminate and uncalculatins interfer-
ence with the laws of nature. No further details are desiraUe beyond
those which may impress men with the advantages of that delicate regard
for woman by which she gains repose, long periods of immunity that nour-
ish the health, sweetness, dignity and future comfort of the household. In
this respect we welcome the plam talking that is to be found in many pages
of this volume.
But we think it is too full of purely scientific details. Men may not
siirink fi-om reiaiding them ; perhaps it is better that everything knowable on
this point should be known by men. But we would not have a daughter of
ours find the book, nor catch a glimpse of some of the wood-cuts, which,
we must say, are too liberal, and entirely superfluous. From a delicate mo-
tive the volume appears to lack delicacy ; and we think that all the impor-
tant matter in it, touching^ upon the relations of the sexes, might take some
nobler strain, separated £om many of the physical explanations.
How to do such a thing well, is certainlv a great problem. How to tell
the youn^ all the needful truth without violation of a reserve which is not
all mere ignorance, and not all a mere occasion for abuses of the ^cy ;
how to keep knowledge innocent — that is the question for a prurient and
eager age. Which shall we prefer, an eruption of all the secrets of the
physician into print and wood-cuts, every counter strewn with them, and
Doys and girls invited to premature fancies — or the old ignorance of sacred
laws of the sexual relation, the old subjection of woman to the slavery of
superfluous child-bearing, with all the disgust, alienation, hidden chagrin,
foundered health and spuits, which that brings ? We think the alternative
lies in telling the truth with greater economy of details. We would say,
with greater modesty ; but the writer of .this volume is conscious only of a
pure motive, and is earnestly moved by considerations of humanity.
American parents are very much to blame. Tkev are the proper author-
ties upon these vital points of the happiness and dignity of their children.
They can communicate in the wisest and clearest way all that their own
mistakes, their own information, their own folly or wisdom has furnished to
their middle age. Their reticence upon this matter is the absurdest thin^
we know about American domestic life. Not absurd, merely, but criming
and palpably contradictory of some of the purest and sanest objects of a
home, and fruitful in unhappy marriages. The reform must begin in the
sweet privacy of every house, where sons and daughters are growing in the
strength and beauty which future marriages should rperence and preserve.
35 U 122
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